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Inspired yet?
An awesome cathedral made even more awesome by the three of us. So, a few months back, after I'd recieved the booking confirmations from our travel agent, I was sitting and sifting through the paperwork when I came across the info for our two flights around Europe. Now, when you see airlines going by the names Easyjet and Smartwings, it tends to give you pause as you stop to consider the possiblility that maybe these Barnum and Bailey names don't bode too well for your travel experience, but if you're anything like me, you follow your belief that bad things only happen to other people and you move on. Luckily for us, the flight from LA to London let us carry on everything (British Airways; a nice respectable name), and gave us hope that maybe the rest of the flights would be similar. Easyjet (From Paris to Rome) unfortunately, made us check in almost everything, and we waited nervously at the gate to board our bright white and orange craft. As far as that flight went, our fears were unfounded. Rome to Prague on the other hand...
In case you haven't been following along with our adventures, a little back story...
Rome is fucking hot.
Now back to the story
Colosseum Dance Party!
It's a rare condition in which ancient ruins compel the patient to dance... awkwardly at hand. We boarded our train to Fiumicino airport at Termini (The central Roman Metro station). Our train car had "Air Condizione" written on the side in big block letters which lead us to believe that it would, in fact, have "Air Condizione". To our dismay...
The train was perhaps the most uncomfotable ride of my life. By the time we reached the airport I had completely soaked through my shirt. I had though that Stacey was in a coma but once we came to a stop at the station, she grabbed her stuff and made a break for the open air. Luckily for her, she made it to the outside where I was forced to watch jealously as she basked in the slightly less saharran heat while I stood in line with the other sweat soaked passengers. Within a few minutes, we were inside a random terminal looking for some liquid relief. Daniel decided to go recon and find out where we were supposed to be and shortly reported back with the info that no such "Smart Wings" exists at Fiumicino (According to every source I came across, he was right). We tried the info booth (Actually a
Our luggage is gone. GONE!!
No matter how you look at it, this is just an upsetting picture. video screen connected via webcam to a woman with a non-functional microphone) but this quickly had us thirsting for blood. I mean a language barrier is bad enough, but a technologically advanced language barrier is nearly insurmountable. After we finally made it into our correct terminal, Daniel and myself decided to try to alleviate our heat-stink via stolen spritzes of duty-free cologne. I just went with a splash of Del Mar. Daniel, on the other hand, went with the 5-cologne sampler (probably a mistake). In the end, we made it to our plane and crowded into the final row of seats (Stace, Devan and myself on one side of the aisle and Danel (much to his dismay) on the other). As we sat there, Stacey and I watched the last luggage being boarded. We saw her and Devan's bag make the plane and then we decided to joke about the other two bags not making it...
In conclusion, we sat on the tarmac for almost an hour (we think while they were trying to find a pilot) finally took off and spent about an hour and a half bouncing around in the air like we were locked in the
My Little Communist
I don't know, I think she looks pretty pleased with her newfound ideology. trunk of a drivers training vehicle. Horrible. Then we got to the airport and touched down. Hard. And then swerved about on the runway for a while. Took a hard left and came to a shuddering halt near the airport bus.
Then there was the luggage carousel which of course spit up Stacey and Devan's bags almost immediately. Eventually, as the carousel belt was clanking around with nothing but a black suitcase and a battered paisley bag on it, Daniel and I worked our way around to the ramp coming up onto the belt only to see a large steel door clamp down on it while the belt clattered to a stand still.
Sidenote- At this point it is midnight. The airport is essentially closed down. The only other peope in the cavernous arrivals hall are a couple others whose luggage had been devoured by the machine. The metro has closed for the night. The busses have closed for the night. We are at least twenty miles from our hostel, and unlike in any of the other countries we've visited, none of us speak a work of Cezch.
By the end of a drawn out dialogue with the lost baggage people and a nerve-wracking, high-speed-chase of a cab ride, we checked into our hostel. At this point we're all wearing sweat encrusted clothing, we look like we just crossed the desert, we want nothing more than to take a shower, wash our faces and go to bed, and yet, of the four of us, only Devan even has a toothbrush. The next morning, still luggage-less, we had no choice but to go out exploring, but since Daniel and I had no clothes and Stacey, Daniel and I had no bathroom gear, we were worried about offending the Czech republic. Luckily, Devan had a stick of deodorant. And that is the story of how a single stick of deodorant saved the trip.
Next up, why I love Prague and the return of the lost luggage.
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Lyndsay
non-member comment
Deordorant is for pussies!
I think the group would have blended in more inconspicously with the Czech Republic if you all had opted to not be baptized by the single stick of deordorant. On the contrary, I am taking notes of exactly where, why, and how you all haved failed, so when I make a venture in personal uncharted territories around the world, I will be a more efficient world class traveler and a lot more comfortable. So, I am not so jealous now...thanks ;)