A travel day to end all travel days

This morning (no wait, it was yesterday morning) started like many. Rise and shine, eat breakfast, kiss the little woman goodbye... but that's where it got out of hand!

The reader need only be reminded that Alicia and I have been married for little more than a month to realize what a painful, tear-invoking goodbye it was. So much so that we decided to say goodbye at home instead of me dragging my wife to the airport, where TSA would have dragged her away screaming anyway. I was told to allow three hours for security and I tacked another hour on for the Lift driver to get me to O'Hare. This meant the goodbyes lasted up until 11 a.m., when a final kiss and a hug preceded my climbing into the front seat. (Good thing about Lift and Uber is you can sit up front while the guy charges you a fortune).

After arriving ahead of schedule I walked directly up to the TSA agent and presented my boarding pass (yes, there was not a single soul in line - at one of the busiest airports in the world)! I then entertained myself for three hours before boarding my flight to JFK in NYC. That's when the fun began...

My plane departed JFK for Madrid about ten minutes late. It was still light out, but all passengers were anxious to shut out any reminder of the sun as soon as they settled. I had already "lost" an hour since departing Chicago and was about to lose another six hours during the six and a half hour flight, which meant that, when those curtains were once again drawn back it was still daylight outside, but now it was Wednesday morning!

While debarking in Madrid I became aware that the airport offers no food! Yes they had "fed" me on the plane, but not enough to bring back the twelve hours I had lost. So, without taking time to feed myself I sought out an answer to my next two questions. How do I get from the airport to the train station, and which train station do I need to catch a tren (Spanish for train!) to Pamplona (the city known for the running of the bulls)? 

A stop at the taxi information booth brought about the answers. I needed to get to Atocha. I was directed into a cab and we headed off toward Atocha, the name that had been sprawled out on the piece of paper I had in my hand. My problem was that the driver spoke no English what-so-ever and I spoke slightly less Spanish. He understood that I wanted to go to Atocha, and he understood that I wanted to go to Pamplona. Problem was, he was indicating that the train to Pamplona did not depart from Atocha! I had been told on several occasions that my lack of functional Spanish would not be a problem because there "was always someone there who could translate". So I turned to see who else was there that could figure this out.

I will continue this, but not tonight. I got up 36 hours ago and can not continue this so....