Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Chewbacca Would've Had Trouble in Italy


As the keeper of three incorrigible dachshunds, a three-legged Australian Shepherd, and a Bengal cat prone to STD’s, I was hardly surprised when my trip to Italy was jeopardized by a wayward pussy.

Since we live in the same neighborhood, my traveling companions offered to give me a ride to the airport.  Our flight was at 9 p.m., and they were to pick me up between 6:30 and 7.  Knowing my traveling companions, whom I’ll refer to as “Nathan” and his “lovely wife,” I expected my pickup to be somewhere around 7:10. 

At 7:15, they pulled into the driveway, where I was sitting on my suitcase playing solitaire on my iPhone. As the mother of teenage daughters, I learned to play solitaire while waiting to hear the clop-clop of their high heels on the stairwell, meaning they were FINALLY ready to go.   Somehow, solitaire keeps me from getting nervous and upset about being late.  This time, I was too busy worrying about uncovering the Ace of Hearts to obsess over the rule that you should arrive at the airport two hours before an international flight.  That schedule, my friend, was gone with the wind.

Nathan and his lovely wife were late because they couldn’t corral their cat.  They were having the hardwood floors in their home refinished during the trip to Europe, and the cat was discombobulated by all the furniture moving and suitcase packing that had gone on that day.  When it came time for them to leave and for kitty cat to go stay with the wife’s mom, kitty was nowhere to be found.  And when she was found, she was a bundle of claws and teeth.

We made good time getting to Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson airport .  Thankfully, efficient curbside check-in and light traffic in the security lanes on a Thursday evening had us at the gate with time to spare.

I’ve never been a huge fan of flying, and those overnight flights in economy class are the stuff of nightmares for me.  Well, they used to be.  On this trip, I discovered the magic combination of Ambien plus KLM’s complimentary glass of wine with dinner. 

I woke up when the captain was saying the Dutch equivalent of “Put your seat backs up and store your shit.  It’s time to land.”

As a public service to my readers, I offer this advice:  Don’t EVER change planes in Amsterdam’s Schipol airport.  That’s the airport the crotch bomber bluffed his way through back in December.  Now, they’re cavity searching all blonde-haired Americans to make up for their grave mistake.  A direct flight to Italy is the better choice, especially with that unpronounceable Icelandic volcano still causing trouble.

All the travel hassles were forgotten, however, when we landed in Venice.  A ten-minute walk took us to a water taxi that delivered us to a spot on the Grand Canal just a short walk to our hotel.

John Berendt, who wrote the bestselling Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, wrote a book about Venice called The City of Falling Angels.  The book opens with a devastating fire that destroyed the Fenice Opera House in Venice in 1996.  The Fenice has since been restored, and our hotel, the Fenice Hotel, was within steps of the Opera House.  I’d also picked up a book called A Thousand Nights in Venice by Marlena de Blasi.  It opens at a small wine bar called Vino Vino, which I spotted while pulling my suitcase over two bridges and several cobblestone walkways on the way to the hotel.  Having already recognized two spots I'd read about, I began to feel right at home in Venice.

Right at home, that is, until I got to my hotel room. The shower in my room was nothing more than a hose and nozzle attached to the spigot, and it was not attached to the wall.  It had to be held by hand.  Since I have as much hair as Chewbacca, it’s pretty much impossible to lather my hair with one hand.  

And shaving in Venice?  Wasn’t. Going. To. Happen.  I now know why European women are legendary for not shaving their armpits.  They can’t.

2 comments:

  1. The Food makes up for it!

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  2. this was good---and I had to click the link and read the huffing and puffing" post! I've always thought you had the best hair!!! And for facial hair, wax it girlfriend! Wax is my best friend! :-)

    Tracey K

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