Flight to Rome

The flight to Rome was said to be seven hours from Boston. Alitalia has more legroom than the big US carriers, but after flying mostly Jet Blue, Virgin America, and Singapore Air once to Korea, I was immediately dismayed by the lack of electrical outlets and in-seat entertainment system. What was I to do, entertain myself?

Luckily, I had entertainment like Meine Schwester, but that can only go so far. I didn’t prepare my iPad with movies because I plan to fill it with photos. And I didn’t think ahead to download specific music. But really, I should be sleeping, so I guess that doesn’t matter.

Our dinner was carbohydrate heavy, vegetable light, and my first surprise meat of the trip. The choices were chicken or pasta. Pasta! Oily, cheesy pasta with random chunks of meat, that is. Missing from this photo is the roll and most of the potato salad.
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When I was later waiting at the back of the plane for the lavatory, a priest walked up. He said, “It’s time to take a stroll,” then walked away. I half expected a rabbi to follow.

Four more hours.

Are we there yet?


Two hours later, after getting more sleep, I realize I had the wrong estimated time. Other things that seem wrong—the TVs are on showing white static, the plane could use a remodel, and the all-male crew have sequestered themselves away in their own private cabin made by velcroing a large blue drape over an empty section of seats. The same seats that Meine Schwester und Rocket Man had attempted to claim for themselves before the flight took off, but were told to evacuate for the big baby blue drape. This all happened before they ran out of wine for dinner. Turns out the front of the plane are lushes and the one priest who spoke to me earlier has not learned the secret of turning water into wine. The steward explained that some flights they run out of coke, some flights they run out of wine. They never know from one flight to the next which it will be.
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According to my calendar, we should be landing at 01:10 Tuesday East Coast time in Rome, but that would make the flight eight hours. It is now 22:11 Monday East Coast time. My phone last thought we were on the east coast. My body doesn’t know what it should believe since I’m supposed be be asleep since it is dark, but at home I’d be awake. Two red-eye flights in a row throws me off a bit.

Are We There Yet?


Tried to sleep a little more, then the lights came on. Guess it is time to wake up.

Breakfast included Pepperidge Farms Milano cookies and more chocolate in the pastry. At least there was yogurt.
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ARE WE THERE YET?


This was the best view I could see from my seat in the middle, back of the plane.
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We finally landed in Rome. As we debarked from the plane, down the stairs to the bus, Meine Schwester exclaimed, “Smell the a-Rome-a!”

While waiting for our next flight, we stopped for espresso. I searched for a working ATM and failed miserably.

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Our final flight was a thirty minute hop from Rome to Firenze. Customs was, well, lax. And the plane had credit card swipers to nowhere.

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Then there was a forty minute bus ride from Firenze to the hotel. We can open the door and walk out onto a large, shared veranda overlooking a plaza. Photos of that to come later from my Nikon.

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Now I’ve taken a bath using the expensive shampoo that leaked over everything as foam. I’m waiting for Meine Schwester und Rocket Man in the lobby, but I have a feeling I’m too late and they have left. Guess I’m on my own.

Ciao!

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One response to this post.

  1. Posted by Kate on October 2, 2012 at 8:56 am

    Wish I was there! Have a great trip and maybe next time (unless the other one decides to get married!!).

    Aunt Kate

    Reply

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