Ok, I am exaggerating the title. But it got you to read, right?
So it is 5:45 a.m., Saturday morning and I have a train to catch to Madrid at 7 a.m. The night prior, I learned that the buses to the central station in Alicante don’t start running until 7 a.m. Without a bus as transportation, I had two options. I could take a cab or I could walk to the station, which would take approximately twenty minutes on foot. Twenty minutes isn’t so bad, I thought to myself. And my backpack isn’t that heavy. Why should I pay for a cab when I could get there for free? So, I decided that if I left by 5:45 and walked to the station, I would be there with plenty of time to spare.
As I hazily packed up my belongings, I could hear echoes of revelers in the alleyways beyond my window. Apparently all-night outings in Spain weren’t localized to just Barcelona.
They say that humans, like animals tend to have intuition about things, but the difference is that humans rationalize excuses to ignore the warning signs of impending danger, while animals don’t think, they just react.
As I was packing, I had a bad feeling about the walk to the bus station. It was still dark out and I had a series of many small alleyways to traverse before getting to the main road that would lead me to the train station. The echoes of voices outside showed no signs of female voices, only men. I knew it was a bad idea to go walking in the streets alone in the dark this early in the morning. Little blonde girl with a huge backpack, walking on unfamiliar streets … Yeah, I think the appropriate term for this would be: sitting duck.
Despite my reservations, I told myself to get over it and go. The reception desk closed at midnight, so there was no way to figure out how to get a cab anyway. I wasn’t going to miss my train because of some stupid bad feeling.
So, I ventured into the alley outside the hostel and was on my way. I had left the key in the room, so there was no turning back now, even if I wanted to. I walked briskly with a pen in my hand … the best weapon I could think of that early in the morning.
About a block away from my hostel, I saw them as I crossed an alley intersection. They were about 40 feet to the right. Four of them. Four loud Spanish men carousing obnoxiously in the street. Then they saw me. Before I knew it, they were walking my direction, calling at me, taunting and yelling.
Never in my life have I ever experienced a fear like this. For all the girls, do you recall the scene where Bella is surrounded by the guys up to no good in a deserted alleyway, only to be saved by the dreamy vampire, Edward? This is seriously déjà vu of that. Except there was no Edward to save the day.
A thousand things ran through my mind at a mile a minute. All culminating in one reaction that I can now vouch … actually does happen. In this case of fight or flight, I ran so fucking fast, I know for a fact that whatever my best 40-yard dash time was in college, was no longer my best. Can you imagine? Me, with a twenty pound backpack on my back sprinting like a bat out of hell with a pen in my hand as protection to fight off the enemies (a pen Kylie, really?). If it wasn’t so downright terrifying, it would be quite a hilarious thing to see, I’m sure. It was like a scene out of some bad horror movie. I darted into another alley, hid in a doorway and stood silently, out of breath, trying to suppress my breathing while I waited for them to pass the intersection and prayed prayers I have never prayed before.
They did pass and I amended my course, so as to avoid crossing their path again. Unfortunately, I had no options other than to keep walking because all of the main roads required that you work your way through these zigzagging alleys to get them.
Adrenaline still pumping, I passed another group of Spanish men, again in a parallel alley, this time three of them. “Oh senorita, ooooohhh!”
Here we go again.
I didn’t even give myself time to look if they were coming my way. I sprinted again and begged for this nightmare to end.
A block up, I was heartened mildly to see a man with a hose, washing the street in front of his shop. If I needed someone, he would be my witness and my decoy to throw off the potential murderers (yes, I’ve seen far too many horror movies).
By the time I made it to the main road, I still had a ten-minute walk to the train station. Even though the sun was beginning to rise and there were people here and there on the streets returning from the clubs, it still did nothing to quell my fear of getting swiped by a mob of Spanish men.
While walking, I happened upon a group of three British ‘boys’. Two of them couldn’t have been older than 18 and one looked measurably older, but harmless nonetheless. They followed after me, asking me if I spoke English and other frivolous questions you would expect English boys to ask an American girl whom they assume is also in the under-21 age category.
I obliged to partake in conversation with them while we walked. Hey, who would mess with a fortress of three boys surrounding me? I was not about to shoe off the innocent conversation of a few teenagers with the alternative being another ten-minute walk of fear. My saviors of the day, they walked me all the way to the bus station before grabbing a cab to where they were staying, ten minutes outside of town.
Matthew, I again thank you and your friends – my Edward in disguise!
Yes, Mom and Dad, I learned my lesson. Two days ago, after learning that the Metro was not open early enough to get me to my 6:50 a.m. flight from the Paris airport, I was faced with the option of waiting at a remote bus stop at 3:45 in the morning to take a 2 or 3 Euro “night” bus, or with the much less financially attractive option of taking a 60 Euro cab to the airport, twenty minutes away. You will be happy to know that I bit the bullet and took the cab.
It is painful to think that my cab to the airport cost more than the flight itself …As such, I am now in Greece and refusing to buy food for the next five days to recoup the losses of that damn cab to the airport … Just kidding.
