This trip was my college graduation present from my parents. It was one of the best experiences of my life. I had never been out of the Southeast prior to this trip, literally. It was also my first plane ride ever. And, my worst plane ride ever.
Since I was a broke college student, I had to find an extremely cheap flight. Which means- layover/changeover central. The ride there was not too bad due to the overwhelming excitement that was eeking out of my pores, but the trip back... I still get anxiety just reminiscing. I will get to that part later though.
Since I was a broke college student, I had to find an extremely cheap flight. Which means- layover/changeover central. The ride there was not too bad due to the overwhelming excitement that was eeking out of my pores, but the trip back... I still get anxiety just reminiscing. I will get to that part later though.
The rest of my traveling posse was able to stay abroad longer and go more places than I was able to, for I was planning a wedding. That's right, I was marrying my "bee guy" the August after graduation. So, I was only able to visit Italy for a week.
Italy was amazing, as many of you know, and the rest of you I am sure can imagine. The scenery, the food, the wine... it was all fabulouso!
I was fortunate enough to go with a group of friends whom many had already made the trip overseas; including one of which, whose family was fortunate enough to live there for a few years. I started my trip at their home in Napoli. I was so excited to both be off the plane and be in Italy! I could not wait to get there and explore the city.
When I finally made my appearance in this magnificent country, wouldn't you know that all of my friends were hungover. From, of all things, attending a freaking Avril Lavigne concert the night before. So, they stayed inside all day and slept their hangovers away, while my friend's mom was nice enough to show me around. (Thanks, Mrs. C!)
Well, that night I really enjoyed the hell out of some Itlaian wine and ended up being the hungover one the following morning. This turned out to be a really bad thing because we were traveling to another town via the Euro Rail. I still remember standing in the train station. The smell... ugh... my heavy backpack on... ugh... the heat... ugh. I decided that my best bet was to stand next to the trashcan... just in case.
The smell.... ugh. It quickly became too much. I turned to the nearest person to warn them that I was about to be sick and that they might want to stand elsewhere. They, not speaky da Engrish, just stared annoyingly back at me. I smiled, made a barfing jester with my hand and pointed to the trashcan. I am assuming they walked off (disgusted)- but, I would not know because I had remained over the trashcan, puking. Having on a huge backpack... over the trashcan soon became in the trashcan. I had to call for help and my friends luckily were close by to lift me and my ginormous pack out.
Upside down in a trashcan of my own vomit. Not a great start to the trip....
But, it didn't slow me down! We hopped on the train and headed to the next stop. Over my visit, we went to Naples, Florence, Rome and Venice.
Italy was amazing, as many of you know, and the rest of you I am sure can imagine. The scenery, the food, the wine... it was all fabulouso!
I was fortunate enough to go with a group of friends whom many had already made the trip overseas; including one of which, whose family was fortunate enough to live there for a few years. I started my trip at their home in Napoli. I was so excited to both be off the plane and be in Italy! I could not wait to get there and explore the city.
When I finally made my appearance in this magnificent country, wouldn't you know that all of my friends were hungover. From, of all things, attending a freaking Avril Lavigne concert the night before. So, they stayed inside all day and slept their hangovers away, while my friend's mom was nice enough to show me around. (Thanks, Mrs. C!)
Well, that night I really enjoyed the hell out of some Itlaian wine and ended up being the hungover one the following morning. This turned out to be a really bad thing because we were traveling to another town via the Euro Rail. I still remember standing in the train station. The smell... ugh... my heavy backpack on... ugh... the heat... ugh. I decided that my best bet was to stand next to the trashcan... just in case.
The smell.... ugh. It quickly became too much. I turned to the nearest person to warn them that I was about to be sick and that they might want to stand elsewhere. They, not speaky da Engrish, just stared annoyingly back at me. I smiled, made a barfing jester with my hand and pointed to the trashcan. I am assuming they walked off (disgusted)- but, I would not know because I had remained over the trashcan, puking. Having on a huge backpack... over the trashcan soon became in the trashcan. I had to call for help and my friends luckily were close by to lift me and my ginormous pack out.
Upside down in a trashcan of my own vomit. Not a great start to the trip....
But, it didn't slow me down! We hopped on the train and headed to the next stop. Over my visit, we went to Naples, Florence, Rome and Venice.
I will not recant every detail of my trip, because I know that no one (besides maybe my parents) gives two shits. I will however highlight a few special memories.
All the jojing.
For those who don't know what that is: Jean on Jean. Those Italians loved to joj, and way before it was considered a fashion trend (which I personally will forever disagree with unless you are a cowboy). (I don't care if it was in a J. Crew catalogue or Vogue.)
For those who don't know what that is: Jean on Jean. Those Italians loved to joj, and way before it was considered a fashion trend (which I personally will forever disagree with unless you are a cowboy). (I don't care if it was in a J. Crew catalogue or Vogue.)
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| Myself, dressed in a lovely JOJ outfit at our reunion party. |
All the peni.
We were surrounded by a lot of exposed male genitalia. In the form of art, of course. (And, displayed all over Naples' Secret [aka sex] Museum.)
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| Would you like some peni with your pasta? No? Tough shit. |
All the wildlife.
We really got up close and personal with nature. Mainly birds. Someone may have also gotten shat on by a bird at a different location, resulting in tears (angry tears form her and laughter tears from me). (Other people getting shat on by birds is still one of my top 5 pleasures in life. Just thinking about it makes me laugh.)
All the water.
Then, there was that time I fell in some water. Well, it was not some water, it was actually the Grand freaking Canal in Venice. And, it was not just anywhere, it was actually at the Rialto freaking Bridge- one of the most popular tourists destination in Venice, and well... all of Italy, and well... probably the world.
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| Rialto freaking Bridge |
See what had happened was... we were all enjoying some nice wine and cheese on the steps by the Rialto Bridge when... we lost a bottle.
It went clanking down the steps, making a much louder sound that should have even been possible. So, up I jump, to save the day- because we cannot litter in the Grand Canal! We might get arrested or something for heavens sake! I was not about to be Claire Danes in Brokedown Palace. So, in went the bottle, and in went me.
Like I said before, this is a major tourist destination. Literally, boatloads of people pass under it (Ha! Get it? But, literally... boatloads). And, of course a huge tourist boat, that might as well have been a cruise ship, went cruising on by just in time to witness me and my gracefulness. People apparently had heard the clanking of the bottle and the screaming laughter of my friends when we both went in, because they had actually moved to the side of the boat closest to me for a better view. This led to me being caught on film by people from all around the damn world. I do like to think that it makes me famous though in a way.
My friends also decided to take a picture rather then see if I was ok or help me out.
Now, you are probably thinking- oh her ass is not even that wet, there is just a line across it. Well, if you look at the water line, there is a step going into the water that is covered in moss. That is what I slipped on- both feet flew up in the air- along with my (new from Florence) parachute damn skirt! So, my bare ass landed on the nasty moss/seaweed-ness blanketed step. It is a feeling no one should ever have to experience. There is not enough wine in the world to make you forget it.
If you have never been to Venice, it is an amazing and beautiful city- but they travel through town by boat instead of by car. Thus, their water is disgusting. And I was just in it. A part of the body nonetheless, that you do not want to be exposed to disgusting water. Icing on the cake- did I mention we were in Italy? They do not have public bathrooms like they do in the US, and I was in desperate need of one.
We finally convinced a restaurant "guard" to have pity on me and let me in to use the facilities. He had a look of genuine concern in his eyes when we told them why I as so desperate. Luckily, I was able to get in there and get the seaweed out. I also was fortunate enough to have a best friend who was willing to take one for the team and look down there to see if I was all "clean of the green." Now that is a sign of a true friend. (Or, a closet lesbian. But, I am pretty sure in this case she does not bat for the other team.)
Somehow, I was fortunate and did not contract a deadly disease. Venice was my last stop before heading home. And when I say last stop, I mean fun, part of the trip stop. Because, I had several more stops involving the plane ride home...
Again, cheap flight. So, lots of stops and long layovers. I was stuck the longest in London's airport. So long in fact, that I needed to find a place to sleep there. And, by "there" I mean in the airport, on the floor somewhere because I do not trust myself enough to leave and find my way back, nor do I have any money to do so.
I eventually find a room where I see other people with ginormous packs and decide to join them. I leave my pack strapped on (because I noticed everyone did this) and try to fall asleep. This is very uncomfortable and not ideal, if you want to actually sleep. I am not good at sleeping in random places to begin with, but was soooo tired that I finally started to drift away.
Suddenly I awake to gasps in the room. I open my eyes and see a man with a huge gun above my head. He puts his finger to his mouth to signal me to stay quiet. I am too shocked and confused to even breathe. Then, I notice several other men, all with guns out, stalking through the sea of sleeping backpackers. What. The. Hell.
I notice that they are all in uniform and assume/hope/pray that they were some sort of police? But, I also thought that all London police were those huge furry black hats? So, I really was not sure. All I could think about was that there was either a mass murder loose in the building or a bomb. Alas, I was not murdered or blown to bits, so who knows.
After my nerves calm down a bit and I make sure that I have not messed my pants, I get the hell out of there. I then panic because I look at the clock and it says it is 4:00 something and my flight was at 1:00 something! I fear that I will be stuck in the London airport forever. I start to cry and find someone to help me. They ask to see my ticket and then start laughing. They keep pointing to the wall. I am confused and keep trying to figure out what they are pointing at. I eventually realize that the walls are windows. It is still dark outside. I had not missed my flight. I just had not slept. And, that meant I still had a day left in this godforsaken airport with mass murderers and bombs.
I sat in a corner, awake, fully on guard, until my flight left.
I eventually get home, to the worst airport of all: Atlanta. No one warned me that it was so massive and you had use to Marta within it! Dear God, I was never going to get home. I got lost several times. I somehow walked through the international checkpoints with my pack on which is a big no no. But, I am so confused, lost, and upset, that I don't even notice. I finally get cell service and call my dad who is picking me up to notify him that I have no clue where I am, but I am in the Atlanta airport and I passed a Chick-fil-a. He laughs because that is like saying you are in New York and passed a Starbucks. Which only leads me to cry again.
In what seems like a lifetime, I finally step out into the sunlight and find my family. They greet me with Chick-fil-a nuggets and I cry again, this time tears of joy.
Italy was great, but Dorothy was right, there's no place like home. I was so happy to be back to the land of fried chicken.
Ciao Bella,
Katie
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| The scene of the crime. |
Like I said before, this is a major tourist destination. Literally, boatloads of people pass under it (Ha! Get it? But, literally... boatloads). And, of course a huge tourist boat, that might as well have been a cruise ship, went cruising on by just in time to witness me and my gracefulness. People apparently had heard the clanking of the bottle and the screaming laughter of my friends when we both went in, because they had actually moved to the side of the boat closest to me for a better view. This led to me being caught on film by people from all around the damn world. I do like to think that it makes me famous though in a way.
My friends also decided to take a picture rather then see if I was ok or help me out.
 |
| Thank you JKC for the picture, friend. |
Now, you are probably thinking- oh her ass is not even that wet, there is just a line across it. Well, if you look at the water line, there is a step going into the water that is covered in moss. That is what I slipped on- both feet flew up in the air- along with my (new from Florence) parachute damn skirt! So, my bare ass landed on the nasty moss/seaweed-ness blanketed step. It is a feeling no one should ever have to experience. There is not enough wine in the world to make you forget it.
If you have never been to Venice, it is an amazing and beautiful city- but they travel through town by boat instead of by car. Thus, their water is disgusting. And I was just in it. A part of the body nonetheless, that you do not want to be exposed to disgusting water. Icing on the cake- did I mention we were in Italy? They do not have public bathrooms like they do in the US, and I was in desperate need of one.
We finally convinced a restaurant "guard" to have pity on me and let me in to use the facilities. He had a look of genuine concern in his eyes when we told them why I as so desperate. Luckily, I was able to get in there and get the seaweed out. I also was fortunate enough to have a best friend who was willing to take one for the team and look down there to see if I was all "clean of the green." Now that is a sign of a true friend. (Or, a closet lesbian. But, I am pretty sure in this case she does not bat for the other team.)
Again, cheap flight. So, lots of stops and long layovers. I was stuck the longest in London's airport. So long in fact, that I needed to find a place to sleep there. And, by "there" I mean in the airport, on the floor somewhere because I do not trust myself enough to leave and find my way back, nor do I have any money to do so.
I eventually find a room where I see other people with ginormous packs and decide to join them. I leave my pack strapped on (because I noticed everyone did this) and try to fall asleep. This is very uncomfortable and not ideal, if you want to actually sleep. I am not good at sleeping in random places to begin with, but was soooo tired that I finally started to drift away.
Suddenly I awake to gasps in the room. I open my eyes and see a man with a huge gun above my head. He puts his finger to his mouth to signal me to stay quiet. I am too shocked and confused to even breathe. Then, I notice several other men, all with guns out, stalking through the sea of sleeping backpackers. What. The. Hell.
I notice that they are all in uniform and assume/hope/pray that they were some sort of police? But, I also thought that all London police were those huge furry black hats? So, I really was not sure. All I could think about was that there was either a mass murder loose in the building or a bomb. Alas, I was not murdered or blown to bits, so who knows.
After my nerves calm down a bit and I make sure that I have not messed my pants, I get the hell out of there. I then panic because I look at the clock and it says it is 4:00 something and my flight was at 1:00 something! I fear that I will be stuck in the London airport forever. I start to cry and find someone to help me. They ask to see my ticket and then start laughing. They keep pointing to the wall. I am confused and keep trying to figure out what they are pointing at. I eventually realize that the walls are windows. It is still dark outside. I had not missed my flight. I just had not slept. And, that meant I still had a day left in this godforsaken airport with mass murderers and bombs.
I sat in a corner, awake, fully on guard, until my flight left.
I eventually get home, to the worst airport of all: Atlanta. No one warned me that it was so massive and you had use to Marta within it! Dear God, I was never going to get home. I got lost several times. I somehow walked through the international checkpoints with my pack on which is a big no no. But, I am so confused, lost, and upset, that I don't even notice. I finally get cell service and call my dad who is picking me up to notify him that I have no clue where I am, but I am in the Atlanta airport and I passed a Chick-fil-a. He laughs because that is like saying you are in New York and passed a Starbucks. Which only leads me to cry again.
In what seems like a lifetime, I finally step out into the sunlight and find my family. They greet me with Chick-fil-a nuggets and I cry again, this time tears of joy.
Italy was great, but Dorothy was right, there's no place like home. I was so happy to be back to the land of fried chicken.
Ciao Bella,
Katie
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