We count....you don't.

When I title this "We count....you don't.", I mean it, but CHILL first. I am not saying you aren't important. I'm saying that when we are counting people....like 1, 2, 3, and so on? YOU DO NOT! You don't say 14, 37, 9, it's ANNOYING, aggravating, there's one (sometimes two) of you on every tour, and honestly? IT WASTES TIME!!!!!! Now, there is the occasional old man who can't help himself, he's just trying to get your attention, well intended perhaps, annoying still? YEP!

We GET that it's the "thing" to do. I find that even I want to do it sometimes, but the difference? I DON'T!!! Seriously, we have limited time, chances are you were late on the bus anyway, having been given 2 hours for lunch, yet having to go to the bathroom upon meet time. REALLY? (Side blog...when you get free time? It's yours, but be smart and listen to your OWN BLADDER! GO, in the time given. We don't set "meet time", and then the "after meet time" for "bathroom time", we quit doing that once you were over the age of 7.)

So I try to count fast and so we can go, making up for the lateness, and when you jack my counts? It takes longer. Duh. ALSO? It JACKS MY COUNTS! And that's when we leave people, or wait LONGER for people that aren't coming!

So, bottom line, when you hear counting, resist the 12 year old boy in you and do NOT throw out meaningless numbers. Don't do it. We'll instantly like you better.

ATH-LHR-EWR-BED

Well, my trip home is ALWAYS an adventure!

When I was standing at the base of the Acropolis....there was a wind....a movie moment of silence, and that was the exact moment when the cold hit me. I was standing there listening to Daniel and his guide....zoning....and it hit me....from there, my nose ran continuously until I could start to really mix meds. THANKFULLY...I keep all sorts of drugs, just short of the "good stuff" in my "Mary Poppins" bag. We rock out Greek Night, well, my dancing left a little to be desired, but we had a good time, and I loved my group-every last one of them.

Anyway, so then of course we get to the hotel, I finish up the address list after a dose or two of Nyquil...and woozy is my middle name...I'm not sure how I took a shower, or if in fact I did use hand lotion as shampoo. 3am rolled around too quick, I got up, gave myself a pep talk, had 3 cups of coffee, and made my way downstairs to drop off the Florida crew. Check in actually worked out well, our driver, Babbis, didn't speak a lick of English, but he also didn't smile either, so I obviously had a task ahead of me. Not smiling is not an option. I head back to the hotel, jam with Daniel, pack a little, have more coffee, set 3 more alarms, and fall into bed for another 1.5 hours. Up, again, more coffee, some more drugs, downstairs, to drop off the remaining bits of my fabulous group. Airport, all is well, of course it's so sad to say goodbye, but I like knowing that all the rest of my peeps are together at least for the big leg of their trip home-warms my heart. And they are all smiling. I hop back on the coach, and head back to the hotel.

BREAKFAST! Fresh OJ-yum...and? MORE COFFEE!? In a normal world? I'd be WIRED-pinging-and highly entertaining...though in the sick, on drugs, not enough sleep world...I'm barely functioning. So I head back up....must...pack...for...real....now. (Sidenote...I can't remember if I've blogged about it yet or not, but the word EXPLOSION is very common in the tour guide world. We get to a hotel room, and it's literally like a bomb goes off...it's how we appear to be put together, but it's also why we don't let people see behind closed doors...we can't explain how THAT got THERE either!) Anyway, packing, and of course going down to say farewell to sweet Daniel. Au Revoir. I'm standing there at the front desk, and Babbis comes in, and so I pretend to fall asleep at the counter, a simple snore out loud, and the man giggles. He. Giggled. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!!! HA!! Daniel comes running over, and says...HOW DID YOU DO THAT!? "I've been trying to make him laugh since 2am!" He says! lol He had the same mind set, only he tried walking like a zombie, the "snore" was apparently the way to Babbis' heart. We then proceeded to "have a conversation" about how I was headed home to see Momma, and we were bff's from then on. I think he hugged me somewhere in there. Cracked him. :-) It's the little things people.

Daniel goes on his way, I'm the sole survivor at the hotel, I have 45 minutes till nice looking Greek man takes me to the airport. I pack. My bag weighs like 65lbs at least. Hmmm....I'll deal with that later. I get to the airport....cute Greek never lets me tip him-he's another blog....he's sweet, adorable, and told me to calm down once because I was fretting about something needlessly-total strangers know that I need to chill. lol. At the airport...reunited with Daniel, and I "babysit" his bag, translation, HIDE it from silly Alitalia and their silly little "policies". See prior blog-I've nothing nice to say about Alitalia. He meets up with me at my counter when I'm deep in funny distracting conversation about the weight of my bag, I mean I was comparing his ticket machine to old movie reels....it was a good time, I had to take out about 4lbs, but in the end, I checked a 59lb bag with a smile, and a genuine smile. And he specifically said, "normally it's only 50lbs, but for you, since you are so nice...." :-) Ahhh.

Daniel then treated me to lunch at McDonalds....oooh! YUM! And he was walking away to catch his flight home, turned to say "I'll miss you"....and? Guess what? THAT is when the cold hit him!!! UGH!!! Poor guy.

My flight, I am saving my very last Nyquil for the London leg, but I've got some Sudafed for this leg. I sleep the whole time, well, as much as I can, as I am an aisle seater-another blog-but my middle seater had her elbows full on out, like IN my side. She's lucky I was sick, but getting tossed between her and the carts going by, it's a good thing I was also heavily drugged. London-played fair. Shocking I know. I even had time for a stop at the "Giraffe" in Terminal 5. Over priced place to sit, which has now become a joke with my brother and I, as he'd never noticed it, and for a while and he was flying to Deathrow monthly? Well, he didn't notice it because he was in the "lounge". Turn your noses up people. I, am not lounge worthy, so I go to the Giraffe. So when I send him the picture of where I am, he asks me if I'm slumming it. Yes, yes I am. I'm also having some sort of smoothie, pretending it's $8 is worth it because it's got some magic healing property to it. It doesn't/didn't, but don't tell me that.

I head to my flight, board, sit down, next to Greek woman, who, before I sit? Asks me if I'll help her with her customs form. Really? I put my stuff up, sit down, and she asks again, in great English. I say yes? But I don't trust this because I only really know mine, not visa's/visitors/aliens/etc. And she says "Do you know how to read?"? I should have said no. I say yes, she says good, because I can't. I don't know what this means. Like you can't read English? Or you can't read. At all. Okay, well, I say yes anyway, as she picks up an English newspaper and proceeds to read...hmmm...suspect. In the mean time, lanky feminine boy with bad boots gets on in a fret and late, and I help him find room for his bag, move mine for his, and he plops down, turns to me, and gives me the "most considerate neighbor award!" AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! YAYA!!!!!!!!! I'm a WINNER!! lol It made me laugh, and smile (later he gives me a cookie-true story)

I pop my precious Nyquil, break out my neck pillow, insert ear plugs, and eye mask, I'm gone. I wake for dinner, eat a little, and she's already asked the flight attendant for help on her customs form....I go back to bed....to be woken by the flight attendant over me...helping her. AT LEAST an hour she spent on the form that takes 3 minutes. She filled out every form, and then when I did pull up my eye mask, she saw, and made me look at her forms. LOL! And the best part is she didn't know what "livestock" was. So I say "animals". She looks more confused. I say, "This question asks if you have been around animals"....NO! I HAVE NOT NOT NOT been around animals!!! As though I was accusing her. Oh boy. And so for the next 15 minutes, we go over it, I repeat the question, she gets defensive about the answer, and I say I'm just repeating the question, she calms down till the next translation. I can imagine she makes her daughter roll her eyes often! Anyway, back to the eye mask. We land, in SLUSH! WHAT THE HECK!? And we SAT on the run way for a solid 2 hours, waiting for our gate, since the plane that was there was de-icing. Seriously, get me a staircase, and get me to my mother....the drug medley I'd fashioned is fading, and I've just taken my last Sudafed. Finally, the fasten seat belt sign goes off, Greek mama BOLTS OVER ME, to get her bags and stand there, awkwardly, so that I can't do anything, but wait. I get off the plane, surely I'm in slow motion, the drug fog, tired fog, sleepy fog. Greek mama is lost in passport control land, I'm okay with not being near her for that-I can only imagine. I make it through, pay $5 for a cart, if for no other reason, than to keep me upright. I wait one hour for my luggage, I mean, there is slush on the ground after all. HELLO, it's NEW JERSEY! It snows all the time! Whatever. I grab my luggage-heave it onto the overpriced cart and roll out. Roll out to Momma Bear. It's snowing out. That's right...SNOWING! And I have to drive home. I'm not sure that was safe or legal, but it was the right decision, my poor mother, waiting for me for WAY too long.

We get home, I fell asleep on the porch. Ha-no, I made it into my bed somehow, and forced myself to keep sleeping. Skipped church. Got up, had some cereal-told my mom I was disappointed in the breakfast that this establishment had, and where was the coffee.

She didn't slap me.

She should have.

Then, after having been up for 2 hours, I needed a nap. I had to be at work by 7pm. I work at Bath & Body Works part time when I'm home, and like a goofball, I said I'd do the Christmas Floor Set. Well, I had new drugs that I'd tapped, so I'm feeling okay, but I'd still rather be sleeping, and this floor set is a hot mess. At 3:50am I was done, and drove home, and fell into bed. Now, I didn't fall into bed and then SLEEP!? I LAID THERE! Till 7:30am. Then slept for an HOUR!!!! Then, LAID THERE! And was USELESS! Until 3pm when I got up, finally showered, put mascara on, donned my Halloween colors and decided I'd be awake to the world and rocked out the "rainstick" craft at the "Harvest Party". And now, here I am, I got up at 7:30 this morning...and I've sort of been productive, I've put off paperwork all day, I did some shopping, I got coffee, and I took a conference call. I've also not taken a nap-I'm proud of that. And? I wrote this giant run on paragraph, in response to the email sent my way by some of my fabulous pax. Intended as a response, turned into a blog. HA! But? I LOVE THE QUOTE! I'm sharing it here. Isn't that the truth!? Especially coming from our "Footsteps of Paul" tour through Greece, and a drop of Turkey.

"Trying to follow in the footsteps of the masters, but it's a lot harder than it looks because even though they had the same size feet as us, they weren't looking down the whole time while they walked to make sure they were doing it right."

My amendment to that of course is...."OR FALLING"! They had it good, things weren't RUINED when they lived there, just when we visit...how is that!?

I miss you friends. Thank you again, for a great great trip. And --------------->

is my "Halloween" outfit. Own orange? Wear it. DONE! And of course....Darian...the nerd....DariaNerd. NerDarian.

MOMENTS!

You know that quote that life is not measured by the breaths that we take but by the moments that take our breath away!? Well, granted, I firmly believe that our life is measure by our relationship with Christ, but I do believe that we are BLESSED with moments. I-for one-am blessed all the time….and these past two nights, were no exception.

I left San Francisco, after a solid 7 hour hang out time in the airport…..boooring, but a little productive, counting out my meager bills (Seriously, all excellents, but a ten spot for 8 days is NOT really okay….), and FINALLY we boarded for Deathrow. I do mean Deathrow. Some of you out there may call it Heathrow, but you clearly have never transferred there if you still refer to it by it’s given name. The airport is new, organized, and HUGE! Oh, along with ridiculous. So I have an hour and five minutes to make my connection! HA! And my flight from San Fran left 30 minutes late. The little desk agent, assured me I’d make it, even came over to me, to assure me that it would be no problem, there were tail winds, I’d not have immigration, OR security! HAHAHAH! The Flight Attendant said the SAME THING! I don’t know why I listen-the gate agent had clearly never been to Deathrow, or never had to connect, and the flight attendant has her own line for everything. Now, if I didn’t make that flight, my next option was just 9 hours later, I’m certain that Deathrow makes these ridiculous schedules on purpose, marketing and humor. So, we land, I crawl over people with my 30lb backpack, and RUN! There is an agent waiting with a sign for “ATHENS”-that’s me I say, she hands me my boarding pass, and tells me to RUN! Mind you, very little signs telling me where to go for Gate A, so praise God she was there! All that running made useless as I have to wait for a tram. Tram stops, running continues, and UP escalators (ALWAYS take the elevator by the way). Then we get to immigration, and I’m THAT person in line, sighing, looking impatient, then I say the excuse me’s, sorry, as I pass people on the next escalators, and I ask 3 different security mongrels if I can cut because my flight closes in 5 minutes, hmmm? No. So then the last one opens up a new line and I’m in the BACK of another, I say HELLO! Can I go over here!? He says…”Lemme see your boarding pass” In my head I was wondering if he had meant to say AGAIN!?? Tool. So, he lets me in, then I ask the whole line if I can cut, that my flight closes in 5 minutes, they look at me like, NO WAY WILL YOU MAKE THAT! And they all let me, with shouts of “You’d better run!” Kind of laughing, as they’ve done the same route. So I finally get out of security…..and RUN….again! Running into the gate agent that handed me my boarding pass and I was a little relieved to see her….except that SHE was running! HAHAHAH! So…we round the corner…? And there is a line of people waiting to board…..PHEW!!!! We both sigh and laugh….Ahhhhh….made it! God is good-all the time.

I slept the whole way, and awoke upon the double landing-again. Maybe it’s Greece!? Maybe there is a speed bump? And I grab my luggage, a treat, and a taxi! To the Intercontinental I say-knowing I’m spending way too much money on a taxi vs. the metro, but I’ve been up for too long, San Fran to a marathon on Deathrow to Athens. I’m ready for my 2 nights by myself! I’d booked the hotel on priceline, I got a decent deal, but the hotel isn’t altogether THAT expensive anyway. I arrive, it’s HUGE, and I get to the desk, and he checks me in, and I ask, any acropolis view rooms? He says yes, for a fee….I say how much? He tells me, I deem it WORTH IT! So then, for a bit more, I can upgrade to CLUB. Club? I’m not a club kid, because I’m cheap. BUT….CLUB is free breakfast, snacks in the afternoon, and at night, plus any drink I could imagine (hindsight, I never asked for a Frappe-what’s the matter with me?), oh and free wifi? What? Free food, free wifi, WITH acropolis view? THAT. Friends, is the DEFINITION of AcropoBLISS! So I say YES! NE! (Greek for YES!)

I get to my room, and it’s true, there is some sort of gingham going on, but I don’t care, because there she is, the Acropolis-and she’s all lit up, and I’m smiling. I then hit up the “Club Lounge”, to make snack time, dinner time. The next morning? SLEPT IN! Until it was time for breakfast-so for a brief moment, I left the view of the Acropolis-and arrived at breakfast, which was AWESOME, and sat down to continue my view of the Acropolis….AcropoBLISS!

Of course the bliss goes on and on, and I did take an afternoon “tour” of Cape Sounion-which I fell in love with wanting to see back in 2007 when it was an excursion on MSC. The “tour” was terrible. An hour ride out where she blurbed for a total of 5 minutes, I was all ready to take notes. BOO! We get to the site, she gives us 3 minutes of information, WIKI would have been embarrassed, and let us go. The pictures are stunning of course, despite her. The ride home of course was quiet, but stunning along the sparkling Aegean. Stunning. Arrival back at the hotel, and I tip her and the driver, more than the lady and her husband, from Georgia tipped me for the entire last week. C’est la vie. Back at the hotel, it’s time for “snacks”…aka…AcropoBLISS dinner….ahhhhh….

The rest of the story gets a little muddled with waking up too early and not being able to fall asleep, then of course falling asleep an hour before it’s AcropoBLISS breakfast time, and knowing I’d have to really say goodbye to my view, and head out and pay WAY too much for a car to take me 2 miles to my next hotel, since it was STRIKE day…..BUT….for those two days….AcropoBLISS….look for it in a dictionary near you! OR? Make it in YOURS! Book your ticket, and pay the upgrade! I mean maybe wait till things chill over here, but bucket list for sure. Ah-Maze-ing. Love me some Greece, Love me some AcropoBLISS!

From Seattle to San Francisco...

As a "Tour Manager"...I freak out on a daily basis. You wouldn't notice per say...but I am. Why? Because I don't know every single thing. Seem silly? It is. But saying "I don't know" to something is this crushing blow to my self-esteem and I see it as over all incompetence for the tour. Harsh? PERHAPS!? Thankfully I have an inflated ego so that I'm able to deal with these common blows, thankfully I know some good jokes that I deflect with, thankfully my God protects me from a lot of them, and thankfully I'm a pretty good judge of people and know when I should duck around the corner or "make a phone call"! I adore my job, don't get me wrong, but every day is different....every tour is different, and from an adult tour perspective, I don't do the same route, every week, the entire year! HA! Sometimes I think that'd be nice, but MORE times I love the every day is NEW of my job! If I did the same thing? I'd know more things, I'd be able to rock out California's History, and the Missions, and say why we didn't see whales, and exactly what kind of tree that was, and how deep the Columbia River is, and what there is to do in Coos Bay...if anything! But...I don't do the same thing....and tomorrow I leave for Athens, not Georgia, to do another "Footsteps of Paul" tour, and may the freaking out begin again!

BUT I LOVE IT! I'm just setting the stage for you to tell you this. Every passenger is different, and that's how you deal with them. Some love you because they love everybody, some love you after you've proven yourself, some love you after you love them, some will NEVER love you, and some, you THINK don't love you, but then they blindside you and tell you they do! THAT is what this blog is about....because it warmed my heart.

I'm on a "Pacific Northwest & California" this tour, I have a group, they are travelers through and through, but from a smaller town. There are 40 of them...and I really like them....I'm really enjoying the tour. We've had some blah weather, like fog on our day to view Mt. St. Helens, and SNOW on our day to see Mt. Hood! There was also rumored to be an earthquake the night we were in Coos Bay! Finally there was sun on the coast, my driver is great, my passengers love her, I'm feeling "okay" about the tour, but I don't think I'm talking enough, granted, enough would be all the time, and nobody wants that. (Realize, if your tour manager is worth their salt, and it's quiet? They are wondering if they should talk! Or maybe that's just me....but that's what's happening in my brain, up front, and y'all are sleeping or looking out the window!) So....it's night 5, we're in Eureka, and my passengers want to do Alcatraz in San Francisco. I'm bitter at Alcatraz for this. It's ALWAYS booked too early, and people ALWAYS want to do it! It puts me in the position to help them, but if something goes wrong, and it's government run-so something ALWAYS goes wrong, well, then it's my fault. So, I'm in the lobby, on my computer, trying to book tickets. Tickets go WAY fast, and I have to book them 2 at a time, with their credit cards,( I've learned looooong ago to not put things like that on my card, though, I question myself every time, as it would be easier to buy 14 tickets at once vs. separately....) And it's quiet, I've got 10 people huddled around me....and my passenger that I was worried about the most, says "I've got something to say, and I'm just gonna say it...". I about die. He, is younger than the majority, very adventurous and he knows his stuff, and I have been feeling like I had to be more than at the top of my game so that he would get something out of this tour. He's smarter than me, and the only advantage I've felt like I've had with him is the fact that I know where the restaurant is in the hotel. I like him, but I'm a little intimidated. And so we are all ears. He says (please read with a southern drawl) "I just want you to know......that you are the most knowledgeable tour guide I have ever had. You know a lot of things about all of these places that we are visiting. Now I know a LOT of things, but you have taught me so many new things, and I think you are very good at what you do." My mouth drops a little, my tears start to well, I stop booking tickets, and I look at him, and I say thank you. Thank you very much, that means a LOT to me. And in my head I add "especially coming from you". He then says "And I mean it. I don't give out compliments, so it means something when I say it.". And I knew that to be true. And it warmed my heart. Everybody murmured in agreement, and I continued to book tickets, but I was filled, my cup runneth over! Awesome. Very great compliment. I'm not sure that the time spent stopping ticket booking was the right thing to do, as I was only able to book 12 of the 14 tickets as Alcatraz ran out....and guess who didn't get to go? HIM! ARGH!!!!! I was so mad. I tried all night, I called all my secret numbers for Alcatraz....I checked Craigslist, eBay, called my SF friends, looked at a bunch of other ticket sites, called the next day, continued to check, made friends with the girl at the Alcatraz office who talked to her manager who could still do NOTHING! In the end....they were more than fine with it, and I over worried, but still, it's what I do. There is no moral to this story, because I'm certain that another passenger still doesn't like me, doesn't think I'm doing enough, and his wife had the audacity to mark "good" not "excellent" for "Created a fun and enjoyable environment". ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? If nothing else that is ALL I know how to rock out! lol. Please, I bought the birthday girl a sash to wear around all day with glitter....she's 80. I'm fun. Like me. But, whatever, it's part of the job, and my heart was warmed by what my other passenger said, and meant. Oh if he only knew...

Once you go Mac...

I miss Steve Jobs like the rest of us. I heart Apple...and have since my grandpa first let me play with whatever "draw a picture" program they had back in like 1983! And I got my first mac as an adult....and love every drop of it. Thank you Steve Jobs for being more than a CEO! I hope you knew Jesus....and I hope you are in heaven! In honor...I love this picture that I stole from Autumn! AND? This article that I found from a year ago is kind of a riot! And since I laugh in sad tense situations....why change now!

ENJOY!

Thank you Stephanie Weehawk!

Apple to turn NY’s Central Park into giant walled garden

New York, NY — How much does the Big Apple love Apple? Apparently, enough to turn over the reins to Central Park.

Enamored with Apple’s ability to create a happy environment by exerting totalitarian control — dubbed a “walled garden” by some — NY mayor Michael Bloomberg has enlisted the tech giant to turn Central Park into a real-world walled garden.

The new park, dubbed Apple Gardens, will open on January 1, 2011.

Keeping out the riff-raff will be a 6.2-mile, 16-foot glass wall that runs along the park’s perimeter. Visitors will be welcomed through the main gate by gleeful Apple employees — once they’ve paid the $99 annual subscription fee. (Family Pack: $149.)

“New Yorkers are going to fall in love with Apple Gardens,” said a jubilant Mayor Bloomberg, “as long as they follow the rules.”

Imagine: even the Strawberry Fields memorial in Central Park will become part of Apple Gardens

In Apple style, the rules will be plentiful. There will be a dress code, language code, behavior code and picnicking code. Footpaths and lawns that fail to meet Apple standards will be off-limits to visitors. And, of course, Apple reserves the right to eject any visitors it finds annoying.

“We’ll do everything we can to make sure people have an enjoyable day, whether they like it or not,” said an Apple spokesperson.

Developers are invited to create fee-based attractions and concessions for the park, providing that they can first endure a torturous inquisition. Apple will reward surviving developers by taking a 30% cut of their fees.

Apple Gardens will also feature a 200-foot-long Genius Bar where visitors can receive free advice, maps and basic treatment for corns and blisters, up to one year from their first park visit. An extended three-year GardenCare plan is available covering a range of podiatry issues.

Needless to say, Google will not sit idly by and watch Apple revolutionize our public parks. Negotiations are already underway to turn Golden Gate Park into Google Gate Park. In direct contrast to Apple’s walled-garden approach, Google’s park will extend a warm welcome to all — including muggers, pickpockets, drug dealers and rapists.

BIttaly. (And it's only day one.)

My day started out on September 7...like any other travel day. Running around, trying to get the last minute things done, barely remembering the brand new strawberries in my car (no longer brand new as I'd already forgotten them for 2 days-whoops), and hoping I'd packed everything. Jump in the car because my Momma Bear is the best. She drops me off at the train station and I'm on my way...wondering what I've forgotten. At the Asbury Park station this, hmmmm, SNAKE? Gets on the train. And I don't mean creepy person, nor do I mean a real boa, I simply mean this wooden snake. Too windy for a walking stick, I have NO idea what it was!

Moving along. I get to the airport, pretty late as there are still some residual flooding issues affecting the tracks. I book it, get to the Alitalia counter, and mean Jasmine informs me that the flight is running 15 to 20 to well actually an hour late. So is it 15 or is it 20 or is it an hour? It's an hour. She pauses. At least. GREAT! But she assures me I'll make my connection in Roma-no problem. I almost asked her if she'd ever been to Roma. I refrained. Too infuriated at having to take out 14kg from my suitcase. I'd read somewhere that morning that 32kg was acceptable, turns out it's 23kg. I didn't flip my numbers, but I did read the wrong thing. Thankfully they made me feel stupid about it, which is always a bonus. (Moral of the blog here is to never fly Alitalia if you want to skip the rest!) I took the 14kg out and made it into a second carry on. For those of you doing the math? That's a 30lb carry on, that's IN ADDITION to my already 22lb back pack. Yay. So, I go down to my gate, surprisingly TSA wasn't too much of an issue, he did swab my bag, but as usual, paid no mind to my liquids-none of which are in their appropriate "baggies". I found a sushi place, I had time to kill, I ducked in. Awesome. Yum. And then? Stephen Walker waltzed right into where I was having my sushi. WHAT?! Friends in the airport?! I tell you, it's a small world all the time. I say, are you going to Roma!?? He says YES! Are you!? I have a friend for sushi, for waiting, and for ROMA! Granted, I go on to Milan-but whatever! Who is Stephen Walker?! Well, he's another guide, and I met him in France when we were both doing a tour COLD (having never done it before) and we were a two bus move, and we had some adventures for sure...one included a late lost night in Avignon. Oh good times! Last time I saw him was for dinner in Paris with another awesome guide Molly, and some friends Christy and Karyn that I was traveling with. So I've never seen this cat in the country, and I certainly hadn't seen him in 2.5 years. It was awesome. So then...we board, we aren't near each other, and the plane is full. Boo, but I'm sure we both got more sleep because of it! Though, the plane had static music pumped loud enough through it, mainly opera, the whole time, and my seat slid back whenever it wanted to. More plugs on why never to fly Alitalia. We arrive in Roma, I'd said my goodbyes to Stephen on my last run to the bathroom as I'd have to sprint if I had any hope of making my flight.

I bolt. Bolting, as it turns out, doesn't work for cattle getting onto a car or into a pasture, and really, that's the best example I can give you for what security looks like in Roma. If you aren't bold or brazen, they'll mow you down. It's a fierce, evil game, and I was late for a flight, that I was making. I was kind, I prayed, I prayed a LOT! God's got this I told myself, vs. doing the heavy sighing that the lady behind me/trying to cut me was doing. Was I prepared to throw down and defend my spot!? Yes. Was I literally breathing down the neck of the kid in front of me!? You bet I was. So, I make it through, and I still have to get through customs. Bonus to Italy is that signs mean close to nothing so regardless of what countries passport I had, I picked the shortest line, and she stamped it, and I ran. (Let's clarify. I was not running. I do not run holding 55lbs of bags. I barely run with less!) So, walk quickly, pray, and mow down the Italian that thinks it's A-OK to stop in the middle of the walk way. Seriously people. I MADE IT! All grace of God. I boarded at 9:07, my flight was to leave at 9:10, too close for comfort, and I did not smell delicious. Didn't care. Made the flight. Did we leave at 9:10? Nope. We left about 45 minutes later. What was the hold up? FRATERNIZING WORKERS OF ALITALIA! Are you feeling me people!? Seriously? We had some non-revs on board, and one by one they'd come on, greet every one of them, try and find room for their luggage, and then try and find a seat. Seriously. Landing in Milano was so nice, we did it twice. The second bump/landing is what woke me up, a la "throwing me out of my seat". Arrival. Milano. To luggage? NOPE! NO WAY! NO LUGGAGE! So I go to the counter for lost luggage...this photo is an accurate description of what happened when it was my turn up. Oh, you don't see anybody either!? She eventually saunters in, as the other 4 people at the other end of the counter were apparently for a "different" sort of lost luggage!? It was on the next flight, that was landing in 15 minutes, but by the time we were done with paperwork, 5 minutes later? The story changed to it was on the ground. I still waited another hour. FINALLY! I leave the airport, head for my hotel, and I NAP! Never nap, you should never nap on day 1...but, well, I napped. Granted, I was woken up when a strange man simply used his card to open my door. NO BIG DEAL!? Um? WHAT!? I get up, I do paperwork, and then I am determined to not let my BIttaly get the Best of me. BIttaly. My new word for Bitter at Italy equals Bittaly. Since I am, or tend to be. Outside is a gorgeous sky, and as I go to take a picture of it, I see that my camera screen is broken. Yes, the brand new one, apparently it's cracked somewhere between American and Italy. You know who I blame. There's nothing I can do about it, and it's not worth my tears. It still takes pictures, I just can't see them, or any of the settings or whatever. Kinda old school, yet still new school prices! UGH! I proceed to dinner, I walk down dark roads that my mother would question were safe or not (except I know well, as this isn't Alitalia's first punch at me, striking on departure day forcing me to find food/shelter/transportation for 40+ people!) and I found this gem of a restaurant, Samarcanda. Sweet from the outside, where I dined in perfect weather, and fun and pubby on the inside where I steered clear of. I had a prosciutto and mushroom pizza of perfection, and an entire liter of ungassed water. Bliss. Also, affordable at under 11 Euros. Pizza...making Italy bearable for centuries. The Italians should look into that slogan... I leave you with this life lesson. Avoid Alitalia at ALL costs. Give your self 6-8 hours of transfer time within this country. Pray-a Lot, since you still have to maintain that whole LOVE thing! CHILL cuz they don't care. And when all that fails? Have a nap and some pizza!

CUPCAKES!

Since I travel so much, people ask me all the time...."What is your favorite cupcake?"

Wait...nobody has ever asked me that. People ask me things like "What's your favorite city"? And well, that's all. Which, by the way? Is a TERRIBLE question, making me pick? NOT FAIR! So, branch out people, think of new questions to ask when feigning interest!!!!

ANYWAY, IF anybody did ask me what my favorite cupcake was? I'd have to answer Georgetown Cupcakes....Vanilla Birthday Cake, with Vanilla Butter Cream Frosting. I'm no cupcake expert, I've not tried them all, but I've had a fair share.

It's true, I'm not the biggest fan of cream cheese frosting, so I'm very partial to my butter cream, but I've had the illustrious "Sprinkles" cupcake? And the only word I have to say is D-R-Y!! And granted, I only tried 2 kinds, but MOIST wasn't involved!

Georgetown cupcakes, are seriously just MOIST! I don't care if you hate that word, it's what they are! So add fabulous frosting, and all of a sudden waiting in ANY line for them, is alright by me!

As a side note? "Cakes by Melissa" in NYC are AWESOME! Yet, totally in a different category! They are fabulously bite size, which is awesome, I mean seriously, most cupcakes are too huge to enjoy! SO! Cakes by Melissa is a great runner up, but #1 in it's own category of goodness!