Our final week in Viterbo was... well, let me just say it: it was deathly boring. We had almost nothing to do except pack, and packing would have made finding things for the rest of the week rather difficult. So, we sat around and watched movies when we weren’t studying for our exams. Thrilling, yes? There was a nice send-off party on Wednesday, and we also went to the “real” terme (Terme di Papi) with Katia, our Italian professor. She was really nice and bought us ice cream. Several people in our class went, and we all got a little burnt, just in time to go home. I still have my “tan line,” haha. If you know me, a tan line is equivalent to a shade’s difference in skin tone that can only be noticed if I point it out to you. I got really sentimental during the final week. It was rather sad for me to think that we were probably not going to get to see Viterbo for at least another 10 years because of finances and graduate school, etc. We got our pictures from Stefano and Francesca, and we took Frankie to see our apartment because she had never been there before. She was distressed by the condition of it, and made us promise to give everything that we had bought for the apartment to her to give to a shelter. So we packed those things up and lugged them down the office. Kevin commented that we always are carrying things during the passiagiata. It’s true: I made the same remark earlier that week when we were toting our groceries. During the time that Italians are expected to show off their new clothes, we were usually getting our supplies for the week, haha. Oh, we were so not Italian. After all of that, and after we packed, the last thing we were suppose to do was have a meeting with the landlady on Friday, but she did not come, so we never resolved any of the issues, and we still don’t know how much money we are going to pay. Instead, we went for a last hurrah at Giulio’s, and we met up with some of the USAC students there. Then we had caffe with Francesca, her man Gianlucca, and two of their friends, along with Stefano. Now, for the meat of the story. We got ready to pack mule our luggage all the way across town. Usually it takes 15 minutes. We planned for 20. It took 20 exactly. Even with the wheels and everything, I was so exhausted that I couldn’t hold up both my duffel and my suitcase, so Kevin strapped on both of our duffels, and his bookbag, and pulled his suitcase uphill, while I had only my bookbag and suitcase. We made it on time exactly, but were harassed about being late. The bus inevitably left 30 minutes late. After having to make the bus stop about halfway to Rome for a bathroom break, we made it to the airport. I didn’t sleep a wink on the trip. We checked in, and once again, I will state how much I hate traveling in groups. We had our first problem of the day: we couldn’t check our suitcases all the way through to Cleveland. So we were going to have to pick them up at JFK airport, heft them through customs, make it all the way across the airport, check in, and make it to our flight in time... we started to worry, but I kept reassuring everyone that we had two hours or so to make it, and we would be able to check our suitcases in at the ticket counter that is through security if we thought we couldn’t make it. I think I had everyone convinced. Our plane left about an hour late from Rome, and we landed in Paris. We disembarked the plane and walked. And stood in line for over an hour after we got through the plane because for over 3 international flights, they only had 2 windows open for their customs and transfers. I bought a book in Paris because I thought I would need some entertainment. It turned out I was right. We boarded on time, but then we sat for an hour and a half waiting for a group of students who were late. Turns out these girls did not know when their flight was from Florence to Paris, and were shopping. Yes, that’s right, ladies and gentlemen: they were shopping in Florence and made us wait. Because they were late, after that, we were so far back on the list to take off that we waited another hour. Let’s do the math:2.5 hours late to Land in JFK
2 hours to Make it to our flight
-.5 hours to Make it to our flight.
Luckily, Air France knows that they are always late (in my experience they are 4 out of 4), and they always build in an extra half hour to an hour into the landing time. So that helps. Then the pilot put the pedal to the metal. So when we landed and disembarked, we had 45 minutes to get our luggage, work our way through customs, get allll the way across the airport on the little Disneyland tram, and check in. There was another girl from our trip on the same flight to Cleveland, Beth. Beth had her cell phone and tried everything she could to get our flight held, but the people at American Airlines were anything but helpful, and were more confused. Firstly, she tried calling Continental because she had their number in her phone, and they couldn’t transfer her, so they gave her their number. At this point, we had 15 minutes before scheduled take off. She go the number and tried to call them, but something got lost in translation, and we think they just gave our tickets to standby customers. Anyway. We were forced to turn our phones off going through customs, so we were stuck. When we got through, we knew we couldn’t make our flight in time and that American was not holding the plane for us.
So, we did what Air France told us to do: we went to their counter to ask what could be done for us.
Air France said “As far as we are concerned, you were flying only to JFK, so this isn’t our problem, because you booked your other leg separately. Goodbye.”
American said “Sorry, we can’t put you up for the night, but we’ll put you on another flight.”
We said “sure, that’d be great.”
American said, “Oh, sorry, there aren’t any flights going to Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati, or Dayton today, so we can put you on a flight for tomorrow, but we can’t put you up in a hotel.”
We sighed and said “Okay.”
American said “Your flight is booked. Oh, and did we forget to tell you, we booked it at La Guardia, so you have to pay for a cab to get across town.”
I cried. Really. I cried. So, we called everyone to try to tell them the plan. We went to get a cab, but we didn’t have enough cash USD to get us across town. So, while Kevin held the bags, Beth and I went upstairs to get to an ATM and get cash. We did, the cab took us to a hotel. They were booked. The guy called the other hotels within a few miles of the hotel. They were booked too. We could have had a room with a king size bed for 230 bucks, and one of us sleeping on the floor. None of us wanted to pay that, and Kevin and Beth decided that we would sleep in the airport. We took the hotel shuttle. We selected seats, got sandwiches, and I cried. I really lost it at the airport. Remember that in all of this, it had been about 45 hours since I had sleep. I went to call my parents. When they picked up, Dad told me that he was calling our cousin, Scott, who lives in Jersey to come pick us up. We thought he would let us sleep on his floor or something, but it was about an hour and half to his place, and he didn’t want us to have to take a cab for that long. So, Beth decided that instead of lugging her stuff around (she had two big suitcases, a little suitcase, and a purse) she would stay at the airport. Kevin and I got a cab to the bus station at which we would meet Scott. He brought his family. We tried several hotels in the area, and they were all booked. So, he decided it would be easier to get to a cab in Jersey. So we drove. And all in all, we went to about 15 different hotels and we got the same story: booked, booked, booked. We kept nodding off in the backseat of his SUV, and only waking up when he would stop at a hotel. Eventually, at 2am, 50 hours without sleep, we pulled into a hotel that had a room. I was so sleepy that I didn’t even notice that Scott paid until I tried to hand him my credit card. He wouldn’t let us pay. I honestly don’t remember a whole lot, except that when we got upstairs, we set our things down, and Scott handed me what I thought was a 20 for the cab ride back. In the morning, we discovered that it was a hundred dollars. We slept, but not soundly, and woke up at 7 to get a 7:30 cab into the city to be there by 8:30 because we were an hour into Jersey. We got there around 8:15, and the cab ride cost $130. Scott really took care of us. I hadn’t seen in him about seven years, and yet he still recognized me at the bus station. He still paid for our room and for our cab ride. All because we were out of luck for a day. Anyway, there is more to come on that.
We tried to check in with our electronic tickets. We couldn’t. We had to stand in line, where a very nice lady named Vini helped us. She checked our bags, and worked through the problem. Turns out, the other night, the guy who booked us, didn’t actually put us on the flight. She did some calling and gave us our tickets. We felt much better when we had checked in. We are going to write American a very nice letter about her and how much she helped us out. Our sense of ease; however, was broken when Kevin noticed that we didn’t have seat numbers. And when they announced that our flight was over-booked by three tickets: Kevin. Doreen. Beth. We knew it was us, and we were on standby. When it all came down to it, there were only 2 seats, and Kevin had already called his mom to send her to pick us up in Cleveland. So, I stayed in La Guardia. The airline, luckily, had an earlier flight to Columbus, but my baggage would go to Cleveland. I read my book (see, I told you I would need it), ate a hotdog, bought a magazine, and tried to ward off this creepy old guy who kept reading over my shoulder. When we boarded for Columbus, I sat next to a guy from OU. He is a psych grad student. I basically talked to him for the whole flight. Psych students are always interesting. My 3 best chica-friends at Capital are all in Psychology. When I landed, I grabbed my stuff from the overhead, and I departed the plane quickly. I found my mom, and then my dad, and after the customary hugs, we went to the car. It was weird to think I was in Ohio. Mom called Kevin and we met up at Don Pablos, which is a few miles from my grandma’s house, so she came too. We passed out presents at dinner, and though it was fantastic to be eating Mexican food, I can’t even remember what I ate. Though I do remember being so full that I turned down sopapillas. That was a first, haha.
When we got home, we basically crashed. Dropped our things in our upstairs rooms, and went to the downstairs room that used to be Doug’s. It had a lot of my things in it, and to be honest, it still feels a little weird.
These last two weeks, I have been preparing things for the wedding, and working with my mom’s students on their choreography for their spring program. They had that this week, and they did very well. I was quite pleased with how hard they worked before I even came back to the states. It’s been rough getting the reception planned and settled in, but my mom has been a real trooper: she’s also in the process of planning my brother’s rehearsal dinner, and getting things together for him. Kevin, though not extremely busy with the reception because he has been in Marietta, has been apartment hunting, searching for a puppy (cuz he’s always on the lookout for a cute dog!), and working. He found us an apartment in the upstairs of a house, and if we can find an air conditioner small enough to fit in the little window in our bedroom, we will be happy people.
The biggest differences that are hitting me lately are as follows:
1. Having to drive everywhere
2. How big everything is
3. How much green there is
4. How little cobblestones there are
5. How new everything is (200 years old? That’s practically brand new!)
6. How the food tastes blander
7. How MASSIVE my refrigerator is here
8. Having to be on time...
9. Understanding everything that is said around me
10. Everything in my closet (that I left here)... it’s like going shopping!
That’s about it right now. My mom doesn’t have to water my plants (2 out of four survived!).
Ciao!
Doreen