Trade ya!

More time in Italy for less time in IL.  How's that sound, Angela?

Well, the decision was made for me last Saturday morning when my flight out of Milan was cancelled.

Cancelled.

Yes, cancelled.

Really cancelled.

It took me a little while to process the information, so I figured I'd give you the same  opportunity.

There I sat at approximately 5:30 in the morning, about to leave for the airport, when I found out that the reason I wanted to go to the airport had just disappeared.  Shoot!  So I got on facebook and found that the only person I knew in the US that was on was a girl who used to be in the high school youth group I helped out with in Evanston.  I asked her to call my home phone number and ask my Dad to go online.  Ha!  It must have been a funny conversation.  In any case, my Dad came online and we tried to figure something out.  There was, of course, not too much we could do, so after a little while I headed off to the airport.  I waited in line for about an hour at the service desk of the airline for my flight, where I was told yes, my flight was cancelled, and they could not help me here.  I had to go to the ticket counter for the airline.  I got there and had the chance to wait some more.  At one point I thought, "Well, my flight to Germany would be taking off right now."  Later, I thought, "Well, my flight to Germany would be landing right now."  Later, I thought, "Well, my flight to Philadelphia would be taking off right now."  I finally got to the front of the line and talked to a man who told me that every flight that day was cancelled for that airline.  Since every flight the previous day had been cancelled as well, they had to help a lot of people.  He said every flight the next day (Sunday) from anywhere in Europe to anywhere in the United States was booked to the hilt, and there was absolutely no chance I could make it on any of them.  He was able to get me a seat on a plane the morning of the 20th, however.  I REALLY wanted an earlier flight.  Any earlier flight.  I didn't want to be the obnoxious customer who caused problems for the poor guys who had to deal the frustrated people who had been waiting in line for four and a half hours.  There were a few tears begging to get some fresh air, and I figured they couldn't hurt my cause.  So I let the man behind the counter see the heroic effort I was making to not melt into a puddle of tears and hoped he would magically be able to find a quicker flight.  It didn't work.  I collected my little piece of paper with my new flight information and made my way to a seating area, where I instantly melted into a puddle of tears.

Okay.

Next I thought to myself, "I'm in Milan for 2 more days.  It's a good thing I have an apartment here.  Oh. To bad I don't have enough money to buy a ticket back into Milan.  Since the airline got me into this mess, they should take care of this problem."  I glanced back at the line I had just stood in for... what was it?  Oh yeah--four and a half hours.  I decided to go back to the service desk.  I was talking to a person within ten minutes.  She told me she couldn't help me; I should go to the ticket counter.  Cool.  While I was there, I picked up a copy of my flyer's rights.  I sat back down in the seating area and burst into hysterical tears.  There was a couple kind of near me, and I think they were saying a romantic goodbye.  They left to do that somewhere else.  I sat for a minute going on less than 6 hours of sleep in the past 3 days, and having eaten nothing that day except one packet of crackers.  I looked at the line--maybe it was smaller.  I dragged myself back into line, plopped down on the floor leaning against my luggage, and started writing a blog I knew I would not be able to post until I returned to my apartment.  Did that, and then closed my eyes, making sure to remain in physical contact with every piece of luggage I had with me.  I dozed off and only woke up when the woman behind me asked me to move forward.  Very refreshing.  This time the line took me less than two hours to get through, and when I got to the front, I was able to get a round-trip ticket to the city from the airport.  AND I read in my handy-dandy flyer's rights that I was allowed to make two phone calls.  Sweet!  Free calls to the US!  I called home and left a message explaining all the updates, and then called my mom's cell phone.  I knew odds were small that she would pick up, since she never gets to her phone in time for the first call and only finds it for the second time someone calls.  I was right.  It's nice to know that some things don't change, no matter how many months you've been away from home.  :)

So, I caught the bus back into Milan and made my way to my apartment.  Unfortunately, I had turned in my keys, the doors were locked, and my roommates were not home.  There is a window in the hall that my old roommate liked to have open for circulation.  I warned her that it would be easy for someone to simply climb in from outside, but she would still frequently open it.  I guess she opened it one last time before she left, because it was a crack open.  I lugged all my luggage through the window and then locked it.  Whew!  Looooong day.  My roommates were quite surprised when they came back and found me back in the apartment!

Tomorrow, I go home for real! (I hope.)