Leaving is hard, goodbyes are difficult, but the process of going through airport security and experiencing jet lag after a trip is borderline inhumane. My flight was two days later than the rest of my classmates so I got the opportunity to spend more time getting to know Barcelona. I stayed at a hostel for my final days and I got to meet a lot of cool people from different countries. I met a guy from the Ukraine who talked on the phone very loudly and had a questionable sleep schedule, but he was nice so who am I to judge? I got acquainted with a guy from Australia who came in really late one night and puked his guts out (poor guy). I listened to a guy from Switzerland’s interesting perspective on life who told me about how the Swiss army had a hard job despite being a neutral country because they have to fight for their neutrality. And I befriended three students from Luxembourg who were celebrating their graduation despite failing their math final (they have to retake the final on Monday… good luck guys). These connections made me feel less alone after my peers that I spent three weeks with departed. I spent my last day taking a day trip to Sitges, a small beach town outside of Barcelona. I felt very responsible and adult getting there and back without getting lost (I’m twenty-one and severely directionally challenged). The city and beach were beautiful and it was a nice way to reflect on everything I had experienced throughout my trip. The next morning my cab took me to the airport where the dread of going through security and customs set in. I went through security and customs a total of three times. I flew from Barcelona to London to Fort Lauderdale and finally Atlanta. I was physically and emotionally exhausted and I fully believed I was in purgatory at one point. TSA Agents being comically rude is an international experience. It’s almost like it’s a part of their job requirements to give you the worst experience possible. The line for customs in Fort Lauderdale was longer than a line at Disney in the middle of summer on a Saturday after refusing to buy a fastpass. If my flight to Atlanta had not been delayed several times I would have definitely missed my flight. When I finally made it back home I was tempted to kiss the ground and sing the national anthem. Despite all of that I would experience it all again in a heartbeat if it meant I could travel back to my new favorite city, Barcelona.