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The Supervisor | The Dreamweaver


My plane arrived and I was caught up in the shuffle of the crowd making their way to the airport exit or to the variety of annexes leading to the bus, train and tram depots.


I had my backpack and a canvas carrier bag strapped onto my small suitcase, which made wheeling it around quite easy until I came to a flight of stairs and had to carry it up, realizing as that moment how heavy my luggage actually was.


Hungry and thirsty after my flight, I decided to pop into a café and have something to eat.


I removed the backpack and cloth bag from my suitcase and set them on the chair next to me so I could keep a closer eye on them.


When I finished my snack, I stood up and collected my things and was surprised that the man sitting at the next table didn't look back to make sure I hadn't mistaken his belongings for mine.


As there was a massive line of people waiting to take the elevator to the main hall, I decided to walk up the short flight of stairs to the ground level.


Coming out of the stairwell, I noticed the line for public transport tickets nearest to the door was very short, so I quickly got in line (inadvertently cutting in front of a fellow traveler who was running to fill the gap in the queue), before the other travelers noticed how short the line was.


I approached an available ticket window and asked for a ticket to Granada.


The young Black woman behind the counter looked confused and called her supervisor over who was walking just behind me at that moment.


The supervisor, a heavyset Black woman, told me I didn't need to buy a train ticket to get to Granada because this was Granada.


Correcting myself, I said that I obviously knew this was Granada and what I had wanted, and thought I asked for, was a ticket to travel on Granada's public transport system.


The supervisor rolled her eyes and, in a condescending manner, told me these were the counters for purchasing train tickets and if I wanted public transport tickets I'd have to go to a public transport office or simply buy a ticket at the tram stop just outside the ticket office.


I told the supervisor that she could have been a little more understanding and courteous as she was, after all, working to serve the public.


She stared at me with a mocking little smirk and walked away.


Then I woke up.

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