Day 1: Departure
Airport departure scenes between loved ones, as anyone who has ever had the displeasure of viewing a tragically cliched romantic comedy knows, have a tendency to be little more than a disaster. Tears are shed, tissues are needed, etc, etc, etc. Thankfully, my departure was nothing of the sort. While my mother was fighting back tears, not quite ready for her "little" boy to leave the nest, and my father was fighting back the urge to show any emotions in particular, my sister was valiently resisting the urge to contain her glee over the eminent redecoration of my room. Once in the air, things were, shockingly, just as smooth. While a ten hour, transatlantic flight is, generally speaking, no picnic, what little luck I have apparently won the day; the three babies on board were silent nearly the entire ride, the stewards were friendly, and I miraculously acquired an aisle seat. Bellisimo. Our layover in Germany was, thankfully, brief. My people have generally not had great experiences with the German people, and the evil eyes extended to me by the people at airport security, the food cart, and even the janitor made me feel less than welcome. Ah, well. In the blink of an eye (in reality, somewhere near an hour and a half) we were in Florence. The journey had officially begun.