John and I had our first getaway weekend without the kids. Our dear friends Dana and Scott Brandt planned a vacation in Italy, and before we left Barrington we half-jokingly said we would "zip" over to meet up with them at some point during their stay. Nilda, being the superstar that she is, agreed to have a sleep-over with the kids and allow John and I to run away for two days to Florence and see the Brandts. Scott's brother Jeff and his wife Anne were also in Florence. Needless to say, we were quite excited about this weekend.
It was all going according to plan - and you know how I like to plan. Nilda arrived promptly at 8:00 a.m. on Thursday 24 April. Kate practically pushed us out of the door, "bye Mom, bye Dad!" We dropped the boys off at school on time, said our goodbyes and it was off to the tube. We caught the tube to Paddington Station, where we picked up the Heathrow Express. A mere 15 minutes later we arrived to the airport. We walked up to the Alitalia counter, checked in with no trouble and headed towards security, talking about the fun that was in store for us and the cup of coffee we were soon to enjoy. How quickly things can turn bad and spiral. A very rude little Alitalia guy said our roller bag was "too big." We attempted to put it into the metal frame that dictates the proper size for hand luggage but the wheels did not allow easy insertion into the metal basket. "You must check that" is all he said to us. I said back to him, rather annoyed as I have carried this bag onto several flights, "oh, so you can lose it?" He laughed at me and we walked away. Meanwhile I watched at least 4 bags larger than ours walk right past us and go through security.
Unfortunately for us, we were so early for our flight that the computer would not accept our bag yet. We had to wait for 25 minutes until the "system" would accept bags for our 12:15 p.m. flight, which incidentally was already delayed to 12:45 p.m. Deep breaths, count to 10, more deep breaths.
Bag checked, boarding passes in hand, growling stomachs...we walked through security and headed to the nearest restaurant for some food and drinks. Our flight was delayed several times over and did not depart Heathrow until after 2:30 p.m., which is 3:30 p.m. in Italy. I say this because our connecting flight from Rome to Florence was scheduled to depart at 5:30 p.m. and the flight from Heathrow to Rome is 2 1/2 hours. Yes, we missed the connection. You see where this is all going?
Upon arrival to Rome and fully aware that we missed our connecting flight, the Alitalia staff did NOTHING to help the dozens of passengers in this predicament. There were no representatives from the airline offering assistance, apologies, directions, nothing!! Thankfully we met a lovely couple, Hazel and Nick Taylor, who were also trying to get to Florence. We followed their lead and ended up at an Alitalia counter with employees that seemed put off by our asking them to help us. The next flight to Florence was at 9:30 p.m. We were supposed to be in Florence at 6:30 p.m...having dinner with the Brandts. We bellied up to a wine bar with the Taylors and had a great time getting to know them and hearing about their family. We boarded our flight, late of course, and arrived in Florence only to discover, but not surprised, that our luggage was lost. The Taylor's luggage was lost too.
I was livid. There was no cheering me up. Tears were brimming and I could feel my blood pressure rising. The woman at the "lost and found" desk had the nerve to ask John, "so, you lost your luggage?" John responded rather tersely, "No, I still have everything I carried onto the airplane. YOU lost my luggage." I had to walk away before I said or did something that would land me in an Italian jail.
We arrived to our hotel around midnight - the lovely Brandts were waiting up for us with a bottle of wine. Wiping tears away from my cheeks we greeted Dana and Scott with big hugs and almost immediately we could feel the anger, frustration and disappointment melting away. We were with great friends, in Italy, having a glass of wine. It was going to be a fun weekend, in the same clothes and without a hairbrush, but it was going to be a blast.
We spent all day on Friday, 25 April, touring around the city of Florence. We climbed 400+ steps to the top of Giotto's Bell Tower at the Cathedral of St. Maria del Fiore, Florence's Duomo. We wandered through the markets and headed over to Boboli Gardens at the Piazza Pitti. Along the way John and I picked up various essentials - boxers, underwear, socks, deodorant, saline - just what we went to Florence to buy. We stopped for a very relaxing lunch complete with glasses of chianti. Then we strolled across the Ponte Vecchio (Italian for "old bridge") over the Arno River. It was a national holiday in Italy so everything was very crowded. The weather, however, was just beautiful - 70's and sunny - so a slow walk through town was fine by us.
We had a lovely dinner that evening and laughed a lot with the Brandts. Scott had several very important phrases translated into Italian and he would test them on unsuspecting waiters and bartenders. Here are a few favorites:
1. "Da qualche parte tra Milano e Firenze ho perso i miei capelli, hai visto?" (Somewhere between Milan and Florence I lost my hair, have you seen it?)
2. "Mia moglie ha fame e ottenere irritabile, e se lei non mangia più presto, temo che può causare me un grande stress. Sapete di un buon ristorante." (My wife is hungry and getting irritable, and if she doesn't eat soon, I fear it may cause me great stress. Do you know of a good restaurant.)
3. "Sono un americano e il nostro dollaro è molto debole, posso pagare di meno?" (I'm an American and our dollar is very weak, can I pay less?)
After dinner we found a great Irish Bar, The Michael Collins, in the heart of Florence. Nothing says "weekend in Italy" more than a pint of Guinness.
Sadly we had to say goodbye to the Brandts very early on Saturday morning as their journey was taking them to the Cinque Terre. We checked with the front desk one last time to inquire about our luggage...we received the usual response, "No, I'm sorry." John and I arrived to the Florence airport and decided to ask the "lost and found" what we should do about the fact that our bag was still lost but we were heading back to London. The woman at the desk, the only nice person we dealt with I might add, informed us that our bag had arrived and was delivered to our hotel. I just started to cry, again. She looked at me and picked up the phone. After speaking Italian very quickly she said, "come back in an hour." About 45 minutes later, we heard over the loud speaker, "John Mueller please report to lost and found." The bag was returned to us - battered and broken - but we had it back and all of its contents were there.
We arrived home to find three very happy children and one tired Nilda. Nilda had taken them to Brent Cross Shopping Center where they were each allowed to pick out something special at Toys-R-Us and then she took them to McDonald's for lunch. Clearly we will have another get away weekend in the future!
Salute!
No comments:
Post a Comment