It was summer, one of my best friends’ birthdays, UB was racing for the final time. I packed fast and I packed light. So naturally, if I’m travelling I take my convertible Bendel backpack. I’ve been a lover of the brand for years, and I have a few other styles that are well made, affordable and functional. I don’t believe you have to always have to carry an expensive handbag to have great style or a great story.

The journey started in London with the world championship races and ended in London with some serious retail damage … But the story got good along the way in Barcelona. When my friends said they wanted to go to Spain, I didn’t hesitate; it was a place where I had many good meals and many good memories.

One day, while lounging at our rental home in London we decided to try and get tickets for a football match in Madrid after visiting Barcelona. Surprisingly, after waiting online for hours, we managed to score great seats to what we later found out was the Super Copa Finals between Barcelona and Madrid! We quickly got a favourite side, got team jerseys and got excited!

Fast-forward a couple days, a whole lot of tapas, and a dozen pitchers of sangria … it’s time to catch our train to Madrid. Of course, none of us are packed and none of us are awake after our last night in Barcelona (but that’s a different, crazy story). We scramble and shower, bumble and bicker about whose fault it is that we are going to miss this train. Even the front desk tells us it’s not going to happen. “You’ll never make it” the agent says, “Barcelona Sants station is 15 minutes away, your train leaves in 20 minutes.” For a few minutes we contemplate the reality that we might miss an awesome match and all those cute football players, and we decide … we have to go for it.

We run outside and flag down, in true Jamaican style, one (amazing!) taxi. I quickly sling my backpack on, and don’t stop running once we arrive. I’ve seen people run and jump over things to catch a flight before; today that was us. It was like a movie featuring… bucked toes, lost slippers, and subtitles — since we don’t speak Spanish, much less Catalan. As the last of us slid through the door, it closed seconds later. We all burst into laughter … Madrid, here we come! In perfect timing, we end up making it to the match with 82,000 screaming fans, even if I only had nine toenails left. A memory I won’t soon forget.

The next day we learn that Barcelona has been attacked by terrorists … just a five-minute walk from our hotel, the very place we would have been shopping had we missed our train to Madrid. We had a little group hug and gave thanks. So, don’t listen to people who say, “you’ll never make it”, always follow your gut instincts, and RUN !!! You might just catch the train to where you are supposed to be.