I've stayed up all night; from the Trevi to the Spanish Steps, where we planned to meet but failed miserably. Our last night in Rome only a mild success. We call a shuttle to take us to the airport. It meets us at 3 in the morning right outside the Rome Center. Goodbyes are said. I don't feel sad. I am tired. And I will see everyone again in Seattle. But I won't see them in Rome again. What will we be in the context of another city?
The van driver is crazy. No surprise there. I no longer fear for my life in Italian cars; there have been too many incidents. We're low on gas. He pulls over and asks if we can give him some money. I hand him 10 euro. Surreal and bizarre.
We start again. White lights trail past my head, blurred and ignored in my vision. I try to convince myself the trip will be over soon, but it is just beginning.
We wait in lines at the airport. My flight is canceled. Another line to fix it. The counter doesn't open for another half an hour. Hope jolts my body awake; a stewardess walks in behind the counter. She walks away. She comes back and arranges pamphlets on the desk. She leaves. She comes back. She brings out a potted plant. She is toying with me...
Three lines later and I've started to wait at my final waiting destination. I had actually laid down on top of my bag to sleep. Two hours gone in a half conscious state. Soon, in 16 hours, I will be home. Or almost home. Something.
Goodbye Rome. Goodbye Italy. I will miss you despite the farewell.
The van driver is crazy. No surprise there. I no longer fear for my life in Italian cars; there have been too many incidents. We're low on gas. He pulls over and asks if we can give him some money. I hand him 10 euro. Surreal and bizarre.
We start again. White lights trail past my head, blurred and ignored in my vision. I try to convince myself the trip will be over soon, but it is just beginning.
We wait in lines at the airport. My flight is canceled. Another line to fix it. The counter doesn't open for another half an hour. Hope jolts my body awake; a stewardess walks in behind the counter. She walks away. She comes back and arranges pamphlets on the desk. She leaves. She comes back. She brings out a potted plant. She is toying with me...
Three lines later and I've started to wait at my final waiting destination. I had actually laid down on top of my bag to sleep. Two hours gone in a half conscious state. Soon, in 16 hours, I will be home. Or almost home. Something.
Goodbye Rome. Goodbye Italy. I will miss you despite the farewell.
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