Entry 1: The Flight, Rome, and Some Potty Observations

Rome Airport, 25 July 11:20 AM (Local Time), 4:20 AM (Houston Time)

As I write this, I am sitting in the Rome Airport and have just under two hours until my final flight to Naples. It has taken me a few moments to re-learn my way around this web-publishing software, which I have not used to any great extent in nearly a year. Also, I'm working on a new laptop with a different screen resolution than my old one. Since HTML, the web design language, is designed to adjust text and pictures depending on the screen resolution of the viewer, and since my present screen resolution is different from the majority, I have no way of knowing how this will look when it is ultimately published. However, this should only be a problem when I mix text and pictures. This year, I also have the added advantage of a new laptop with a working battery, so I am not at the mercy of a nearby outlet (a good thing at this particular moment, as the European voltages would quickly fry the computer).

Yesterday's preparations went pretty much according to form. Darcy and I had spent nearly all of Friday night washing and drying laundry (you have to do these things at the last minute so you have as much clean clothing as possible to pack -- do the wash any earlier and you invariably will have to wear at least one pair of underwear and socks before you leave). We made time to head out to our local Borders bookstore to get provisions for my journey -- a Benjamin Franklin biography I have been meaning to read, some paperback fiction, and so on. Darcy also borrowed a book from the library that I began reading on the flight -- excerpts from some of the source materials used in The Da Vinci Code. Many of them I had already read or at least heard about, but it is still convenient to have some of the major sources in one place. Darcy has also annotated a Fodor's travel book for me.

Saturday morning was busy -- Darcy packed my suitcase while I took care of administrative details, paying bills, and making sure all of my active cases were able to remain relatively untended for the two weeks I will be gone. I think it is some measure of the growing success of my practice (as well as my infinite capacity for procrastination) that this task took almost literally to the last minute. We had time for an excellent breakfast -- Darcy is getting talented at making the perfect three-minute egg, still runny on the inside so you can dip toast strips in it. We each had two eggs with two slices of toast and red grapefruit.

It was at this time that I checked my email and we learned of the death of one of our good friends in the choir. She had been suffering from congestive heart failure for some time, and had been ordered to remain as still and quiet as possible by her doctors. Those of you who know Sushila can recognize how difficult a task this could be for a woman of her boundless enthusiasm and energy. Though the email did not say as such, my guess (and my hope) is that she died peacefully in her sleep. In any event, this was sad news to receive prior to departure, and I will regret not being able to attend her memorial service to celebrate her life.

Our original plan was to leave the house by 11:00, which would leave plenty of time to get to the airport for my 1:15 departure time. We ended up leaving around 11:20, with a stop to make at the local Walgreen's to pick up a CD holder for the tunes I wanted to take with me, and to get some "walking around money" from the ATM. It was just after 11:30 when we finally headed out. A quick turn on the freeway on ramp, a quick acceleration to highway speed . . .

At a quick deceleration as traffic grinds to a halt. Some construction or repair, evidently, has taken our nice four lane highway to three, then two, and I think eventually one lane. A quick consultation with Darcy and an executive decision later, and we are off the highway, cutting through the Heights, hopping on the Loop, taking another exit onto the highway we just left, and breathing a sigh of relief that the traffic has thinned out again. At the airport, Darcy drops me off and finds a place to park so I can hop in line to check in. Fortunately, the international check-in line is mercifully short, and I finish my check-in just as Darcy arrives at my side. We walk together as far as we can towards the gate, then sit holding hands and chatting until she begins to worry I will miss my boarding time. Several kisses later, I am passing through security and arriving at my gate.

Just like last year, the first flight is always to Atlanta, where Delta has its hub. I arrive about an hour before my flight to Rome departs, and make it to my gate just as my seat row is being called. As it turns out, I am seated next to another Reservist, although he is heading to a different part of Italy. I will later meet several Reservists all traveling to different commands; in fact, as I write this I am just a few seats away from a Navy nurse who is performing her own annual training at the Naples Fleet Hospital.

During the flight we have two movies. The first is "50 First Dates" starring Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. I watch this one and listen with my headphones. I can recommend this as light-hearted fare for an evening and certainly worth the rental; Sandler and Barrymore look to become the Hudson/Day or the Hanks/Ryan of their generation. Darcy may not watch it until I return however -- I want to watch it with you. The second movie is another romantic comedy, "The Laws of Attraction" starring Pierce Brosnan and Julianne Moore. I didn't use my headphones with this one, but I could still follow the plot pretty well; take that for whatever it's worth.

During the flight, for the first time ever in a lifetime of flying, I use the airplane lavatory. Those of you who know me, know I have pretty much a cast iron bladder, but because of the short layover between flights in Atlanta I was not able to use a restroom there, and with four more hours to go before we land, I decide to play it safe and not try to hold out. This decision is not without its near catastrophe, however.

My shoulders, as anyone will attest, are pretty broad. In any event, broad enough that standard coach airline seats are a little cramped; when I have an aisle seat, as I had on this flight, my shoulders tend to poke out into the aisle. The flight attendants are gracious enough to nudge me as they bring the carts by. The passengers, however, are another matter entirely. I happen to glance up at one particular moment and see a woman with the biggest ass coming down the aisle towards the lavatory. Now, many of you reading this may know some women with big asses. Let me just say this -- welcome to the major leagues. I mean, think of the biggest ass you have seen on a woman. Now stuff two pillows down her pants. Getting the picture? This woman's ass ended, swear to God, at least a foot behind the rest of her. Now, I am sure this woman is a pleasant, charming companion, and I know she is a human being with feelings and her own dreams, fears and hopes. I'm just saying is all.

It is obvious, as well, that the woman is either not aware of her ass's sheer immensity, or is unable to control its independent movements, because as she passes by, her ass clips me in the shoulder and almost knocks me sideways. She continues on her way, and I spend a moment readjusting.

Moments later, I check the lavatory sign and see that it is free. I walk to the rear of the plane, turn the corner, and try the door. It moves just a little, but no further, and appears to be locked. I head back to the main cabin, confirm that the "occupied" sign is not lit, and try the door again. Nothing. Puzzled, I head back to my seat. Sure enough, no sooner do I sit down than The Ass clips me again! I return to the lavatory (no problem with the door this time) and soon enough return to my seat. That is when realization slowly dawns. If the door wasn't locked -- and if I pulled a little harder -- I would have come face to face (so to speak) with -- aarrggh! Oh, the humanity! It burns! It burns!

Finally, touchdown in Rome. I have about four hours until my flight to Naples leaves, and spend it simply wandering among the shops in the international terminal. I debate whether to peruse the duty free shops, but decide against it for two reasons. First, the phrase "duty free" is essentially a code phrase meaning, in essence, cheap liquor and cigarettes. Oh sure, they sell other things as well, but really, we know what it's all about, don't we? Second, even if I wanted cheap booze and smokes, you don't get to take the purchases with you when you shop duty free -- they are delivered to your flight to be picked up when you board. Tired of wandering, I eventually pass through immigration control and customs, and head to my gate, where I sit as I write this.

Now, it appears as though my nurse companion is standing in some kind of line. Since she and I are on the same flight, I figure wherever she is, I should not be too far behind, so I sign off for now.