I would like to transport you to the time of Friday, March 11, 2016. Jamie had left for Germany at around 8 AM, Reba was sound asleep, and I was excited for break. That meant that I didn’t sleep almost at all. That day’s tasks were fairly simple. We needed to pack, I needed to run a few errands, and then we would be off!
We began at around noon with Reba making lunch and me being sent off to 1) take out the trash, recycling, and compost 2) pick up some euro form the bank 3) get panino’s for the flight/dinner. This sounds simple, right? Okay so dropping off the trash it about three blocks from homehome which is right by the Duomo. Done. Check. Next? Go to the bank. I decided on going to Piazza della Signoria since the banks are sheltered and actually have a “store front” type deal with real live bankers on the inside. This was a wiser move than I’d intended. The machine ate my card which resulted in a mini panic attack. I frantically *tried* to get into the actual bank. Security is high. The doors put you into a holding cell and will not unlock if you have metal on you. Fortunately, I didn’t except for my little iPod. So, I got in, sat down, and waited for what seemed like eternity. My iPod was playing “He’s already in your tomorrow” which was comforting. I was blasting my music and sweating bullets. I’d heard of the horror stories of students getting their cards eaten up and having to wait a month until a replacement made it over. I didn’t have time for that. I was flying to Budapest that evening.
Getting the card out was fairly easy. The machine hadn’t eaten it, per say, and there was nothing wrong with my account. So, I walked to Piazza della Repubblica and tried the bank there. Glory, it worked. Then, I dashed to the panino place, got our sandwiches, and headed back home for lunch. This whole ordeal must have taken an hour but luckily, Reba didn’t start cooking until much later than she’d intended(youtubing is her current favorite thing to do).
We ate, we packed, and we headed to the spot where the bus would take us from S.M. Novella to Pisa Airport. Reba is the boss. The boss is code for something that I can’t really disclose on here but you’ll probably get an idea of what “The Boss” means. For latin sake, we’ll stick with calling her “Le Chef”. Le Chef decided that a sign, which Le Chef translated, indicated the spot where we were waiting. Le Chef was wrong and Cole had a feeling but Cole also noticed that Le Chef had us waiting two hours early for a bus to take us to the airport two hours early. Cole was not okay with this. Cole doesn’t like being significantly early. Cole likes to make arrivals and utilize time to its maximum potential which means not arriving earlier than Cole finds necessary. Cole would much rather be late an make an entrance. Reba is very opposite.
I decided to stay quiet about my presumption. Some sick part of me enjoyed seeing Reba squirm. In reality, I was working on my faith. The later bus would give us a very small time frame and in the event an emergency would occur, we’d probably miss our flight.
God’s grace is sufficient.
After an hour of walking back and forth on the same street, I decided it was enough and that we should re-read the sign, this time, with me translating it. Yep, the sign said meet under the clock in the train station- not outside.
Coooooooooool
We went to the designated area and Reba decided to plop down. I knew we were not “there yet”. I asked her if she wanted to ask the lady on the inside of a stand if she would know where our particular bus would meet. Reba said no so I asked. The true meeting point was, in fact, around the corner from the current assumed meeting point and maybe 1/6 of a mile from the original presumed location.
So, we made it to the bus that would be leaving at the proper time. I’m also officially the worst person ever but I slightly enjoyed it.
Reason numero dos for le worm squirm: the bus did not leave on time
It left about 10 minutes late. At this point, I began to pray, God, I wanted you to teach Reba a lesson- NOT ME. Serves me right…So, I look at Reba and tell her to pray what I’d been praying for: make it to the airport in 45 minutes. This would give us 30 minutes to check in and get through customs( a stretch but much better than the 70 minutes that the pamphlet told us it would take). God decided it would be appropriate to make the bus ride spicy by allowing for some construction to take place. Yea, that was fun. Also, this bus driver was literally the slowest driver available in all of Italy. No joke, y’all.
But we made it in 30 minutes, PRAISE THE LORD.
This is not the end of the evening. By this time, it’s only about 6 PM.
We arrived in Budapest, safely, at 8 PM. Our train would depart at 7:45 AM. We didn’t think it would be reasonable to get a room for the night and (Reba I love you don’t kill me) Le Chef thought that 24:00 meant open 24 hours. Prego, allow me to let you in on a little secret. Europe runs on military time. 24:00 means midnight. The train station was not open for 24 hours. They kicked us out at midnight which before, I was just basking in the glory of the thing because it was majestic. I was totally chill with getting kicked out because I wanted to walk around the whole night. The train station would re-open at 4 AM. Reba gave me a long lecture on why it isn’t wise and expressed her want to take the metro. I didn’t. Hehe- I won. We ended up walking and trying to find McD’s. The first McD’s was not open for 24 hours. The second one, a little further in the city, was absolutely poppin’.
If you wanna know how poppin’ it was, read the post Keep Holding On.
At 5:30 AM, I prompted Reba that it was time to head to the station because I wanted to photograph the sunrise- which was glorious by the way. Going early, in this case, is not a waste of time because I had productivity on my mind. Boom.
After a while, Reba grew impatient and asked me to ask someone about when our train would arrive( this is at 6:30 AM ish). Transportation, in Europe, does not announce gates or terminals far in advance as they do in the U.S. but I asked anyway, to keep the peace. The dude was like “it’s way too early” and I told Le Chef ” it’s way too early”.
When it was time, we did board the train but on the wrong car. Hungarian is tres difficile and I don’t speak a lick. It has little to NO latin root so don’t ask me. But Le Chef also didn’t want to ask for help so we just plopped down, in the wrong car, with a luggage, in someone else’s seat.
Some Romanian lady came in and started freaking out because we were in her seat but luckily I was able to retaliate back in Romanian, that we had no idea what was going on or how to understand the ticket. Obviously, when someone with dark skin is speaking your light skinned language, you get stunned. She was speechless for a moment but proved to be useful in explaining the ticket to me. So, there.
Through this whole escapade, I remained way too calm for Reba’s taste. She hates it when I’m calm. But I was calm. I really didn’t get upset at all. I was just tired and dehydrated.
Après tout, we arrived in Vienna. It was- I don’t even know. I was tired. I grew excited when I spotted a juice bar inside the train station. How cool is that? A juice bar??? WITH ACAI? #basic
I really miss vitality bowls.
And after we took the metro four stops into the city, we had arrived to our penthouse in the first district of Vienna.
God’s grace is sufficient.
-and scene
collectif de cole 