(Roma, Italia) Sorry Mr.Arab man, You can't board!

Flying to back to Spain for the Running of the Bulls and for the World Cup Championship Game seemed like a great idea, I swear! That was until I showed up to the airport. When I tried to check in, they told me they couldn't find me. An hour later, and after having already missed my flight, I was informed that I was cancelled off of my flight. That’s right: My flight wasn't cancelled, I was just cancelled off of it. They said it was because I used a "strange credit card from the United States, and they are very strict." I used a Wachovia Visa, WTF? Anyway, I got sent to the consult desk to try to straighten out the situation. And boy did they ever. The lady there told me that my original ticket will be automatically refunded and that I could buy a new ticket for 127 Euros (about 15 Euros more than the original price). Okay no problem, its kind of lame, but I just want to get back to Spain. Handed her my card and she ran it. Five minutes later she is like "Oh, I have to charge you another 80 Euros." Hell NO! I may be Palestinian but a man can only take so much punishment. I told her to just refund me the money and I was going to figure something else out. She proceeds to charge my card again (and I found out later again, she triple charged me). Then she pulled out the manual to the credit card machine and started reading it trying to figure out how to do a refund. I've said it before in my blog posts and I'll say it again: "THIS IS NOT GOOD". An hour and a half later, she had managed to do one return and then gave me another one in cash. I didn't know she had charged me a third time at that point. I walked away from the desk and blotted straight for the pay phone so that I could call my credit card company. They have a number on the back and you can call them collect if you're outside of the US. What could happen in this situation? Yeah they refused my call. Three times! Why? This is why you put the number on the back of the card for situations like this. Oh well! So needless to say I will not be watching the world cup in Madrid.

The night ended with me at a left wing political reggae concert in Roma with a bunch of people smoking the mary jane!

Holla atchya Mallah Mon!