Early in the day, I discovered that despite the entry requirements for the the country of Spain being simply proof of vaccination, to get to the island, I also needed a negative test within forty-eight hours of arrival. This meant at some point in the afternoon, I’d need to arrange a test. No problem, there are facilities available. Show up, get in the virtual line and go. Once you’re called, you have 30 minutes to show up, and register. No problem.
I got the message and moseyed. Started the registration. Hit a snag at the point where they request insurance info. Call me stupid, or ill-prepared, but I didn’t expect to need it, since I’m going to be out of the country. I’d left it at my hotel, 1.2 miles from the facility. I asked the administrator how long I had before my 30 minutes were up. She looked at her watch and said, “Twenty minutes.”
So there I was, running in the streets of Manhattan – in street clothes. I bust into the hotel, grab the card, pop it into my wallet, and bust out. Thank you low elevation, cuz the running was easy from that perspective! Dodging people and cars was the greater challenge. As I approached my destination, a young woman shouted at me, “Don’t worry! You’ll get there!” I replied with a smile, and a “I hope so!” and kept going.
Did I make it? Well, yes, I did. Getting the test was anticlimactic after the effort to get there, but the negative result will allow me entry on the island, and that’s the positive result I needed.