While I wait for my travel buddy, whom I’ve never met, I have wifi in Rome for an hour and I’ll sit here and ramble about how I’ve gotten 3 hours of sleep (not consecutively) and I feel like I could fall asleep in this baggage claim, but I’m afraid someone will take my stuff. 

Everyone in this airport just teeters a little bit on sketchy. I don’t know why I feel that way. Something in their eyes… 

There’s a family waiting at carousel 11 and each one of them is wearing bubblegum pink in some form. One has a shirt, one has the pants, one has a sweater draped over his shoulders, and so forth. Also the carry-ons are pink. I must’ve missed the memo.

I’ve no idea what to expect out of the next three weeks. I’m hoping I can make it long enough to actually see Rome. Here’s to hoping I don’t sleep through it. If you’ve ever been, let me know what I should see or what I can miss. I’m staying around the colosseum, so that’ll probably be stop #1 after I get my room from the nuns we’re staying with and possibly shower. That’s not a priority. 

Sightseeing+pasta=priority. 

There are a silly amount of babies on vacation today. I saw them in Frankfurt, and I’m seeing them now in Rome. That sounds like a nightmare to me. LIke, honestly, what could ruin a potentially awesome vaca? A BABY. For you and everyone around you. I get that I was a baby once, too and my mother dragged me to Scotland at 18 months (and she said I was an angel, FYI), but I’m just saying. If I were in that situation and that baby didn’t have to come… well then no way, Jose. 

If it goes my way, I’ll have a trowel in my hand by Monday. If not, well then I get to stare at Vesuvius for a little while anyway. Ain’t bad, ain’t bad. 

I must return to the crying babies now. 

Auf Wiedersehen, meine freunde.