To the depths of Hell and Back

I just returned from the first and hopefully the last traumatizing moments of this trip. After speaking with the airlines and being told that my luggage would be waiting at the airport to be picked up by 5pm, Andria and I take the 30 minute commute via metro to the airport to find out my bag is STILL MISSING. After frantically running around from terminal to terminal, which must have been at least 5 miles because one thing is for sure the Barajas airport is GIANORMOUS, checking at least 4 storage closets, my luggage was no where to be found.  I barely cry and I literally burst into head pounding, gut wrenching tears. What the hell am I suppose to do without clothes in a foreign country? We are going on a trip tomorrow for 4 days and I have nothing to wear of my own but a pair of socks and a dirty pink sports bra. Yeah, I mean I could wear Andria's clothes, but lets me serious me fitting into her bra is not happening. It doesn't help that when they let me look for my luggage, there was a suitcase in the closet IDENTICAL to mine with the name Pablo. Eff off Pablo. Why do you have a purple suitcase? After Andria literally screaming at the Iberia workers saying that her "sister" needs her luggage and they better find it because that is their job and me crying for an hour and a half we called the airline and they told me they'd ship the luggage to Seville when it got there and in the mean time I could buy things to get by and they will rein-burst me. Well good effing luck to whoever is paying the bill for my shopping spree. You better believe I am going to buy whatever the hell I want. Need a new pair of boots sure? Jeans? sure. Shirts, Bras, Underwear, Bathing-suites? Yup all of the above.  I am not a happy camper. Doesn't help that I haven't worked out in two days. I am already going insane. Someone wanna ship me a Kettle-bell?