DAY 89: L7-Dsquared

Apologies for this every other day business… blogging + 15 page paper on Florentine Art = One Busy Blond!

My last morning in Ibiza went a little something like this:

Up at 8 am. Breakfast downstairs involved great coffee, orange juice and an apple. Walked to town for a Big Gulps latte. Scanned mags at a nearby newsstand to kill time. Grabbed Roo, checked out and walked to the bus stop across town.  Took the #10 bus to the airport…

While munching on muesli around 1pm in the airport, “Psycho Dave” decided to chat me up… he AND his stunna’ shades, hunter cargos tucked into his high top kicks and his pot belly that poked out under his Dsquared t-shirt. This dude was tripping balls- he kept asking me questions to which I barely responded in my best-disinterested tone. His feet were tap-tap-tappin’ to the song in his head and his twitches made the whole row of seats jerk, after I told him my name was “Sarah” for the 12^th time, he grabbed his Louis Vuitton carry-on and ran- literally ran to the gate… even though they had just announced that our flight was delayed an hour. He skipped back to the area we’d taken over to inform us the flight was delayed (thanks, Dave) and chatted up the other girls when I closed my eyes. If I can’t see him, he can’t see me, right? After sitting around for 2 hours, I started to wish I could take a unicorn ride in Dave’s superlative state of mind. We finally boarded, but only after Dave pissed off the stewardess enough that she took her anger out on all the other passengers, specifically me, requiring Roo to eat my purse since I was only allowed one bag. There were 30 people on a 737… I think there’ll be enough room.

Back in Rome, we took a 4 Euro bus at 5:15pm to Roma Termini through horrible traffic- I was convinced we would crush every Smart Car we stopped behind- you couldn’t slide a credit card between bumpers… Four Non Blondes was the only thing that made the stop and go bearable. Made it to the train station… ran into a grocery store for some dinner items (salad, cheese and salami) when Jessie told us a woman in the ticket office told her we could catch a faster train if we ran… so run we did, barely making it onto the fart coffin FULL of people.

Two hours later we arrived in Foligno where we were to catch the next train to Perugia… but unfortunately, the woman in the ticket office didn’t inform Jessie that the trains to Perugia don’t run on Saturdays… if I had a dollar for every time I’ve received news such as this in the last 3 months, I’d have this trip paid off. SO, after finding/asking a EuroStar employee what our options were- a bus at 10:40pm… it was 8pm. Fan-cake-tastic… let’s see what Foligno’s all about, it shouldn’t take more than 2 hours! We parked around a table in a resto and ordered 2 liters of red wine. And Kate ordered French fries. Unenthusiastic were we! The act of killing time offers zero pride nor a sense of accomplishment… Dislike button for the feeling of, wanting to get home, but can’t. And it’s not even “real home!”

10:45pm: Bus departs Foligno train station.

11:13pm: Twelve eighth graders, all hording Heinekens, board the bus.

11:14pm: Italian yelling and drunken singing ensues.

11:56pm: Adolescent sobriety is no where to be found

12:17am: Whit’s patience and temper are tested.

12:19am: Whit about looses it just as the bus arrives in Perugia.

12:25am: We realize our only way home now is a taxi. We say fruitcake and cough up 25 Euros to get to the villa.

Long duck-dong day. Just when you think a simple flight and train ride will be a snooze, 12 hours of delay and dismay later. you throw your exhausted body into bed, with your shoes on. Home semi-sweet home! More from Corciano later, ciao!