Airport Tears

I woke up two hours before I needed to leave the little Roman apartment. I showered, packed my last things, and ate some peanut butter toast. I said goodbye to my jar of JIF, apprehensive that my bag was already a little too heavy; I left my peanut butter behind. Jenna helped me carry my bags down stairs, and I managed to get a cab to pull over at 5am, my flight was leaving at 7. We were almost to the airport, a 30 minute cab ride, when I remembered my new camera was still in Jenna's purse from the night before. I tried to be calm, but tears started rolling down my face as I decided in 5 seconds that it was worth the trouble to turn around and retrieve it. I had to pull myself together so I could tell the cab driver in Italian what I needed. Of course, Italian style, he first bartered with me about how much extra I would need to pay to turn around. I agreed, and he started RACING back to Trastevere. Jill was not answering my emails that I was headed back. By the time we got back to the apartment it was 5:40am and I couldn't get Jenna and Jill to buzz me in because our buzzer is broken. I started pressing every single button, frantic that I would not get my camera and then race back to the airport empty handed and miss my flight... Luckily the landlord buzzed me in! I ran up to the apartment, banged on the door, grabbed my camera, and shouted "thank you sorry sorry" as I literally flew down the stairs and into the cab.

Such an intense cab ride to the airport. I made it just at 6am. An hour early for an international flight with three months worth of luggage is not an ideal situation. I tried to pull myself together as I lugged everything to Air France. Air France is not ideal period.

My bag weighed 90 which was 30 over. I told the lady with her lips pressed together and a look of distaste, that I would just pay for the extra weight. She told me that was not possible which I still don't understand! Wasn't that the whole point of lowering the amount of weight allowed? So airlines could find more ways to make money? The lady told me I could have 60 in my bag and 10 as my carry on... purse and little rolly included. I reminded myself to keep breathing as I frantically pulled things out of my suitcase and started throwing them away. The lady looked at me puzzled. What did she think I was going to do with the extra weight? Not board the plane because my bag was too heavy? She just stared at me as I tried to pick out the heaviest items I could do without which included 3 pairs of shoes, bug spray, lotions, all shampoo, towels, old shorts, paper... the list goes on. Some time while I was throwing out my life, I didn't realize I was crying... again.

All the sudden out of no where she said "if you want this bag to get on the plane, I need it in 3 minutes." Why couldn't she have given me a ten minute warning?? I started putting more clothes on top of my black juicy sweat suit. I had jeans on, multiple shirts, sweatshirt tied around my waste... As I went to put on a few heavy necklaces, the flight lady stopped me and said that wasn't allowed. WHY NOT!?!? Finally I got the weight down close enough. The crying must have worked because she pretended not to notice my carry on now weighed more than my checked bag. She also stopped smirking at my new outfit and several bags in hand. Apparently I made the four minute count down, and I ran to security. No idea how I managed to get all my carry on belongings through the gate and onto the plane, but I did it. I barely made it to my second flight in time, but as I sat on the plane to India I decided it would be a miracle if my bag actually made it there. I was black berry messaging my sister at the gate while waiting in line to board. As I puffed my inhaler she nicely calmed me down. I made a mental note to NEVER put myself in an airport with an overweight bag again. We will see if that actually happens...


My journey from Italy to India was not supposed to be difficult. I would fly on a quick flight to Paris and then jet off to Delhi, India an hour later. My France to India flight would take about 9 hours.

I arrived in India at the scheduled time, and I held my breath as I watched all the bags circle around. Mine did come. It was one of the absolute last bags to fall, but it did make it. I had 45 minutes to kill before I met my group; their flight was scheduled to arrive a little later. I had my first experience in India on a squatty potty which is basically just a hole in the ground. No toilet paper was supplied, and I thanked God that I didn't throw out my tissues to save weight.

I found the group. They were tired after their two 9 hour flights. We exchanged some money and jumped on a bus to our hotel.