Airports are my happy place. Airports mean adventure, you’re going somewhere exciting or new. Or, you’re coming home and seeing your loved ones. Going to the airport and sitting at my gate is an invigorating experience in my book. And that’s what I’m doing right now actually, sitting at my gate to leave for Detroit, then to Paris, then finally to Florence.
These past few weeks sped past. I figure I’ll use this post to detail —
Okay. Update. That portion above was from Sunday January 8th at 1:39pm. That was before everything went crazy.
The plane to Paris never arrived because it had mechanical issues, and thus had to remain in Paris. So our flight was cancelled entirely. Looking at it now, I’m very glad I wasn’t on a faulty plane, but I’m still irritated with what all followed that event.
I’m currently writing from Florence at 3:01pm on Thursday January 12th. After arriving in Detroit at 3:30pm on Sunday, we learned of the flight cancelation. What followed that was 3 more cancelled flights, over 36 hours with a handful of hours of sleep, 2 meals in 3 days, and finally myself and my roommate Meg going rouge from the chaperoned group flight. We departed Detroit at 9:30am on Tuesday, and at long last arriving in Florence at 11:45am on Wednesday.
Honestly, what I wrote above still rings true through this all. I still love airports, but I probably won’t be longing for the Detroit one anytime soon. I still love flying and traveling, but that airline won’t be seeing me again if I can help it (their partnering company, Alitalia, is wonderful though and I would HIGHLY recommend).
So, long story short, I’ve arrived.
The adventure begins.