Wheels & sails

Málaga to California, no flights needed

It all started because I hate flying. Sounds foolish, but when panic hits, you just want to cover your ears and disappear. On a ship, I tell myself I might survive – I know how to swim (a few minutes, until hypothermia or a shark). But a plane? Zero chance – I don’t know how to fly.

This phobia began on a long-haul flight from Los Angeles to Paris. I was seated by the emergency door. Shortly after take-off, it started making odd coughing noises – as if it had a cold. The engineer checked it and exchanged a silent nod with the flight attendant: this doesn’t look good. I was choking, sweating, praying like a monk. Even the captain inspected it and nodded: I wouldn’t bet on this one. That nine-hour flight felt like nine years. When we landed, I swore – never again.

But humans forget. Soon enough I was planning my next holiday – California! This time, no planes allowed. There had to be another way. So I mapped out the challenge:

Bus + Train + Ferry + Taxi + Queen Mary 2.

This was my Pacific Coast plan: slower than a plane, faster than a snail.

The first leg: Málaga to Paris by bus. (Not the wisest choice, especially changing buses in the Basque Country at 3 a.m.) Then the police boarded for a routine check. I was so numb and sleep-deprived I almost shouted, “Yes, it was me, officer! Please take me away!”

From Paris to Caen… bliss: gliding through the French countryside on a train, sipping wine, pretending this mad plan was chic instead of insane.

Dark enough, I arrived in Caen for an overnight stay – one of those charming hotels where they promised the key would be “somewhere.” At midnight it felt like a twisted game show: “Where’s the Key?” No key, no staff, no phone answered. Plan B: lurk outside until someone entered, worst case – sleep in the lobby with the potted plants.

From Caen, a ferry carried me to Portsmouth. My first sea crossing: completed without falling overboard. A taxi took me to Southampton, where I spent a sleepless night buzzing like my first Disneyland visit.

Here’s the surprising part: I’d assumed transatlantic voyages were only for the mega-wealthy – Titanic bank-account holders. Thanks to my brilliant travel agent, Yolanda Benítez, I scored a bargain. Why pay full price if you can book in advance and get a steal?

The next morning, I headed to the quays. Nervous – like going to my wedding and meeting the in-laws for the first time. Muttering, “Stay calm, don’t trip on the gangway, and try not to look like a tourist.”

The legendary Queen Mary 2 awaited – what a beauty! Much better than I imagined; I almost shed a tear. Fatalistic as ever, I muttered: Well, Lord, if I must die doing my favorite hobby, let it be on this majestic ship – in style.

My experiment began: Málaga to California – no planes.

To be continued…