There is so much to say. I started writing this post about two or three times once I discovered I could write a bit on my phone using the wordpress app – particularly on the plane when I started to feel a bit panicky about the whole idea of flying across the world (halfway around is probably more accurate) to meet someone I’d never actually verbally talked to before. I mean, there was every sort of possibility that my friend could be a homicidal maniac or simply…not exist at all. Of course, she had done the miraculous thing of taking something I had compiled and made and put it into Mr. Mumford’s hands and there was photographic evidence of that. She and I had also messaged on facebook at least once a week for the past couple years. It would be pretty massive undertaking to hoax me for no real benefit, but still. It could have been anything when I showed up at Fiumicino – Leonardo da Vinci Airport.
And it wasn’t anything – it was really fantastic. My friend was exactly as described…or imagined…or planned. She was a great hostess, a fantastic guide who knew the reasoning and details behind and about everything.
I danced at a club (say what) after getting in gratis and being given a free drink. I got on the train to Florence, had a glorious night there on my own, survived a mild panic attack while walking on my own through a massive city by sitting in an outdoor restaurant and ordering a giant plate of 100 slices of toast and jam and stressing until I discovered the Italian Barnes and Noble: La Feltrinelli which was a balm to my anxiety-ridden soul. Got on the train back home and was fine even when my friend and I missed eachother and I was stuck for a time in Roma Termini with naught but the homeless to avail myself of.
It was an epic and wonderful trip that I mean to delineate in as much space and time as I can stand, but also, on the last day of the trip I felt a bit of a scratch in my throat, I was able to ignore it, but by the time I hit Dublin, it seemed pretty clear that I was coming down with something more than just a minor irritation. Once I arrived in Boston, I was miserable and had oozed snot helplesslessly all the way over the Atlantic Ocean. I am forever grateful that I had decided to book a hotel room for that night anyway, and the hotel shuttle was easy (once we avoided the crime scene where some limo driver had run over some airport employee) and the bed was upgraded, enormous, and lovely. A shower and a few hours of sleep awaited me before I got the next shuttle and got on my flight back to Denver. I have been dealing with it over the last few days.
I just didn’t think I wanted to post yet again and I realized I had to…so here we are.
Catch you tomorrow.