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  • Writer's pictureGlenn Dobbs

"The moving walkway..."


Once more , we are off

“Beautiful !”


- Our waiter at our first restaurant we stopped at with each item I ordered. (It was)

It has been almost two years ago exactly since we left Madrid. We returned to Spain yesterday.

We were understandably nervous about traveling once more. It had been such a big part of our lives and, like so many other things, the pandemic changed everything. We have been following the news and the latest reports but still remained unsure.

“Are we going too soon?”

“Will traveling be too difficult?”

“What if we get sick while overseas?”

After some considerable discussions we decided to once again step out on the “Road to Bali”. Our conclusion was that we are both triple vaccinated, the omicron wave is receding, and the case rate at our destination is far less than in our home in Indiana.


It was time to go again.

I have some friends who traveled recently to Europe just before the Omicron wave. They faced plane cancellations and delays. We did not. All three flights were on time. We fought lack of sleep and comfort for some 25 hours yesterday as we waited in planes and various airports for our connections. At one point we were in a waiting area next to one of those familiar walkways that traverse the long terminal halls.

As we waited for our 3 hour layover we were treated to, “The moving walkway is coming to an end, please watch your step!” over and over again. This ordeal alone made me question the wisdom of the entire trip. Covid announcements had replaced the common overhead warning of “Please do not accept bags from strangers”.

Flights were full and it was little wonder that you could not get exposed to the virus in such crowded conditions. You had to have a vaccine to get on the flight. Still, despite the masks, you wondered about it.



Then, at 3am, 35,000 feet over the Atlantic just off the tip of Iceland, it happened.

“The announcement came overhead, “Is there a doctor on the plane?”



I made my way through the large jet cabin to the attendant. I was shown a man in the middle aisles who appeared ill. He was semi conscious, diaphoretic, and had a slow thread pulse. I was joined by two other passengers who were an ICU nurse and another physician. It was very crowded in the narrow row. I worried we may have a cardiac event in progress and how in the world could we care for this 200 plus pound man in such a narrow crowed space.

The man was able to answer some questions. He did not have any significant medical history and was taking no medication. He denied any chest discomfort or shortness of breath. We laid him down and elevated his legs. Passengers in the neighboring aisles reached over to help.

At any given time approximately 1/3 of your blood volume is in your legs. This fluid volume is dependent upon you moving to keep it circulating. If you remain stationary for too long, the blood can pool in your legs and you can lose consciousness and faint. This phenomenon, known as a vaso-vagal episode, is more common in older people and pregnant women.

The attendants wanted to help and brought every device and medicine they had on board to us. Items were spilling out all over the place. We managed to find a pulse oxymeter to check his breathing, a blood pressure cuff, and an accu-check to see if his blood sugar was too low. Fortunately, they were all normal.

We managed to lie him prone across the long middle aisles and elevate his legs. This did the trick. His pulse became stronger, and he became more alert. His vitals were stronger and we moved him to first class where he could lay down.

We still had three hours to go in the flight. The attendant asked me if we need to divert the plane. We over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and I remember thinking “divert to where?”

The three of us agreed that he appeared stable and now was feeling much better. The other physician offered to stay in first class to check on him. (Clever fellow - I wished i offered :) ) He was an ER physician and that certainly trumped my being an OB/GYN.


"I'll stay with him!"

So I assured the man that he wasn’t pregnant and made my way back to my cramped seat in steerage for the remainder of the flight.

We arrived in Madrid Spain to a mostly empty airport. It was a little strange. We made our way through customs and two medical screenings. The evaluations were brief and efficient.


Madrid Airport

The last flight was a commuter jet from Madrid to Granada, our final designation. The weather had warmed considerably. it was in the low 60’s as we flew through clear skies and lower altitude. You could see outside how charming the landscape was becoming. Small whited colored towns surrounded by groves of orange trees, olive trees, and grape vineyards.


Granada is the former capital of Spain. Its glory has long since receded into history. Today it offers a old town filled with 700 year old ruins, cobble stone medieval streets, ancient cathedrals, and endless tapa bars.





Our hotel is a 500 year old building that the front desk person took great pride in telling us the story. The rooms of the old palace have been restored and each room, to complete the experience, lacks a bathroom. You are given a chamber pot from the period and after its use you are encouraged to toss the effuse out the window on the cobble stone steps below to complete the middle ages feel.


The hotel lobby

After an all too brief of a nap, we walked along the Darro River that courses its way along the base of the Alhambra Palace, a huge Moorish fort we will explore later in the trip. It was the golden hour of the day and the scene took on that magical quality when light hits the old browns, reds, and yellows of the decaying buildings. Gnats twirled under trees trying to absorb as much of the remaining heat coming off the sidewalk. They glinted in the setting sunlight. We ate in an outdoor cafe and watched as they slowly turned on the lights to the sides of the Alhambra.






The waiter was right.


It was beautiful.






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