Well! I finally have a minute to write about my trip across the Atlantic and back to the states. First of all, I have just found out that International Flights, really long ones, kick ass. I flew from Lyon to Milan, Milan to Atlanta, and Atlanta to Jacksonville. I was too tired to remember my flight from Lyon to Milan because it was entirely too early in the morning but I will admit that my Italian Airport Experience was memorable. I couldn't get all three of my tickets printed out in Lyon for some stupid reason or another, naturally, so I was told to find the "Transfer Desk" in Milan so that I could get the rest of them. I get off the plane, see a sign that says "Transfer Desk" and proceed to wait in line. There are two girls working and each of them were helping someone so I thought, Hey, this will be quick. Oh no. The girls were talking to each other and laughing in Italian and doing a bunch of other stupid stuff and the people each of them were helping must have had something really complicated to do so I waited in line for about 25 minutes. Finally I get up there and the girl tells me that I have to go to the DELTA transfer desk.
"Oh", I say.
There is a long pause and the girl just stares at me
"Where...is that...??" I say.
"Up those stairs. Go.", she says.
"Okay...thank you."
That was weird. I proceed to the stairs and when I reach the top, im in a designer brand mall or something. I ask the woman at the information desk where the Delta Transfer desk is and she rolls her eyes and tells me to go through the customs checkpoint and then keep walking.
"Where is the customs checkpoint? What direction, left or right?"
"THAT WAY!"
So I go "that way" and hope for the best. Luckily I see the checkpoint. I handed the Customs woman my Passport and she asks me for my boarding pass. I give her my ticket stub and the reciept from Lyon that said they couldn't print out all of my boarding passes and she looks at me like I'm a terrorist.
"No...I need your boarding pass" she says to me in a thick Italian accent.
"This is all I have. THey couldn't give me my tickets for Atlanta in Lyon."
"I cannot use this! What is this!?"
The other man in the booth takes a look at my things and says its okay and the woman proceeds, in loud brash Italian, to yell at me and the man. Now I don't speak Italian but I am pretty sure she was bitching me out. She kept pointing at me and crinkling her top lip and yelling "Americana! Americana!" If her eyes could shoot things out of them, she would have killed me by leathal radioactive streams of acidic tomato sauce lava coming out of them. She continued to bash me and my country but the other man in the booth told her firmly to stamp my passport and let me go. She told me to "NEVER DO THIS AGAIN OR WE WILL NOT LET YOU THROUGH!" and then she SLAMMED the stamp down onto my passport and let me go.
Whew...escaped that one. I found the Delta Transfer desk and the woman told me that I didn't even need to be there and that I should just go to my gate because it was boarding. She told me it was B10 but it was definitely not. There was no one at gate B10. I looked around for a screen or something but couldn't find one, then I saw a crowd of people speaking with southern accents and I knew I was probably close. I was right, and my flight departed out of Gate B01. Close...but no rigatonni, Transfer Desk Lady...
Despite the Italian Airport Fiasco, my flight was incredible. I got two seats to myself, on the window. I had the option of choosing from about 20 movies and 50 TV shows to watch. They fed us two meals AND Ice Cream. I also had two pillows and three blankets. I ended up watching Superbad, The Bourne Ultimatum, The Office and 30 Rock, Falling asleep to the new Radiohead CD and did the crossword puzzle, supplied in my seatback magazine. It was wonderful.
Then, when I got to Atlanta and had to go through Customs, I stood in line behind Ludacris. It was definitely him. After we bonded in line (which consisted of me debating if it was really him or not) we went down the escaltor together. Actually I just stood behind him and stared at the enormous diamond in his ear and his hella fly Timberland boots. I found my checked baggage and just before I left, Luda looked up from his blackberry and we made brief eye contact. He was sad to see me go but you know, I just can't live that kind of lifestyle, jetsetting back and forth from Milan to Atlanta to who knows where every other weekend. Unless of course he's gonna pay for it.
I finally got to Jacksonville and saw my dad. I was dead tired as I had been awake for 24 hours. I experience some very strange Culture shock on that flight which will be saved for a different blog but I will say that when we stopped for gas and the attendant inside the quick mart thing greeted me in English with a thick southern accent, I was more than startled. Then I saw the huge pots of coffee and even bigger cups of soda and realized that I was not in...Europe anymore. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not but then I saw the Reese's Peanutbutter Cups....
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