We're on our way from Knoxville to New Haven on this bright sunny morning and hope to arrive by dinner time after an uneventful drive. Thus far it's been an interesting trek which is pretty much what we've called every transportation adventure for the last month.
It began innocently enough with the Rome Cab Company picking us up promptly at 9:30 a.m. two feet from the door to our apartment. This is worth noting since our street does not allow vehicles so we were expecting to have to walk a bit to the nearest piazza. Apparently we still don't understand the driving rules or, more importantly, when to break them. Anyway, as we piled into the van I heard Joel mention something about a perfect start to the day, how loading up couldn't have been easier, or something along those lines. Oops...spoke too soon.
I was in my own world enjoying a last glimpse of Rome only vaguely aware that every once in awhile the driver would lightly pound on the gear shift. Whatever. Perhaps it's a bit temperamental, I thought. Palatine Hill, Trastavere, the restaurant we loved...all slipping by with my good memories when I noticed a little more frequent pounding on the gear shift sprinkled with some unsuccessful cell phone calling. Hmmm.
As the winding through Roman cobblestone streets lessened and the autostrada approached, I noticed him loosening his tie as he turned up the air conditioning. More unsuccessful phone calls, more pounding on the gear shift, more sweating and loosening. I asked, "Tutti OK?" and he answered with a string of Italian words and gestures of which I understood, "Macchina (car)...autostrada...no..." Enough said.
I fully expected him to pull over emptying us and our luggage on the side of the road, but no, we proceeded to drive the 25 km on the autostrada (think interstate) in the SOS lane (shoulder) with him revving it like mad in third gear, then popping it into neutral to coast as far as he could until he had to throw it back into third gear, then rev it and pop it into neutral again. I oscillated between worrying that the macchina's gear system might rebel and shut down entirely with this ongoing abuse (again, visions of us on the side of the road) AND giggling uncontrollably at the insanity of it all to the point where I had to turn my head out the window so the driver wouldn't witness MY seemingly insane laughter in this situation. He was after all, still sweating profusely with an occasional groan whenever heavy traffic was merging in. Poor guy.
We finally made it to the terminal giving him a little applause and receiving barely a smile in return. I don't think he had recovered as quickly as we had.
The 11-hour flight to Atlanta went off without a hitch. Alex's to New York was equally smooth although it's a little strange to have four of five family members board a plane leaving one behind in the Rome airport. I only fretted about that for the first hour or so though knowing that she is a very capable city girl. Mostly we just missed her, feeling a little less 'complete' without her there.
In Atlanta the fun began again. We had plenty of time to get through customs and baggage claim and recheck for the flight to Knoxville, but soon found out that Delta had canceled that flight and booked us on an earlier flight which we missed due to that re-entry process noted above. When we got to the desk we found that we were already booked on the 7:30 a.m. flight Monday morning with an offer for standby for the upcoming 11 p.m. flight. You have to admit that they are efficient in managing their inefficiencies, yes?
Given that we were numbers 15-18 on the waiting list, and that we were exhausted (Italy time was now 3 a.m.) we opted for staying overnight on Delta's dime each receiving some meal vouchers and a cute little gift pouch with those travel toothbrushes that make the roof of your mouth feel like you just ate a bowl of Captain Crunch or a toasted Reuben sandwich. You know what I'm talking about.
We had already checked our bags again before realizing our flights had changed so had nothing but carry-on luggage which, frankly, was kind of a nice perk to not to have to lug it all over one more time. It beat us to Knoxville and was waiting for us upon our arrival this morning. Nice.
We had planned on being greeted Sunday evening in Knoxville by our lovely Dongarra nieces and nephews and sharing a toast of limoncello. So sad that didn't happen. Some friendly faces would have been very welcome. Instead, we called ahead to the airport hotel to make sure they had a restaurant. They did. "It's authentic Italian," the hotel clerk said very proudly. I was stunned. I mean, really. What are the odds? We're in Atlanta, the home of grits and soul food, and in the U.S.A. where you can get a cheeseburger on every corner, but we find ourselves perusing a menu that looks exactly like those we've read for the last month and eating pizza from a 700 degree oven. Too funny (and admittedly quite tasty).
So, we'll hopefully be grilling some burgers in a few hours, helping Rudy and Roxy recover from our return (we're sure they gave up on us long ago and will be frantic with our unexpected return), and sleeping in our own beds. Drew plans to spend the night at a friend's house to get a little 'non-family' time and we may have to slide Calvin's plate under his bedroom door as he enjoys some of his own space. The blog's picture today was taken at 5:30 a.m. this morning before taking the shuttle to the airport. Notice the matching shirts lovingly provided by Delta in our overnight packs. Nothing says 'team' more than matching t-shirts, don't you agree? 'Go Team Delta!'
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