The adventure begins...

I don't think I expected to be so sad when I got to the Syracuse airport. I was excited, but nervous. Mom waved goodbye as I took off my long black wool coat and dug through my overstuffed backpack. I pulled out my bag of 3.5 oz. liquids and simultaneously yanked on the grey bins stacked in front of me. I refused to look at my mother. I wasn't necessarily sad, but I knew I was going to cry if I saw her cry. My neon yellow scarf, black wool coat, and leather navy purse went into one bin, as a pulled out another for my laptop. The boots with the zipper on the back turned out to be a good idea: easy to take off at airport security.

Of course I went off going through the alarms, as I had stacked up as many bracelets as possible on one arm in order to make sure the bag that was being checked wasn't overweight. My carry-on suitcase was so full it was going to burst (I was praying for it to be gate-checked instead) and my backpack already didn't shut fully. Even worse, I was planning on sneaking on my little navy purse under my coat that held my passport and other important documents. Essentially I was carrying on three bags. 

Annoyingly, my checked bag wasn't even weighed in the Syracuse airport. Typical. If I had known that, I would have stuffed 10+ lbs. more into that bag. Instead, the night before, I made Peter get on and off the scale at least 11 times in order to be sure that my suitcase would make the cut. I think it was the most lifting he got in all break.

 As I walked back through the metal detectors I took one last glance at my mom and waved goodbye as I saw her wipe away a tear. At the gate, I threw my coat over my arm to hide my little purse (it worked) and sat myself down on the plane. I didn't feel nervous at all yet, and the plane ride flew by.

I arrived in Philly at about 12:45, where I proceeded to waste the next two hours attempting to navigate the slow internet in order to watch the premiere of Downton Abbey's Season 3. It didn't work. Giving up, I got up to get a slice of pizza for lunch and determined that a side of blue cheese didn't even make the slice worth finishing. The pizza had better be much more satisfying in Italy...

At one point, I got up to go to the bathroom and heard someone call my name. I turned around and two friends from PC were looking at me in surprise. I had assumed that no one would be flying out of Philly, but I was pleasantly surprised. I spent the next few hours much less bored than I was before, and after making two last phone calls to Peter and Mom, I boarded the flight. When I got to the front of the line, I was made to gate-check my bag. I got nervous when I was leaving it at the end of the tunnel, because mine was literally the only bag there. When I got on the plane, I made sure to remind a flight attendant, this nice American woman, that my bag was out there. Even though I've gate-checked my bags all the time, it seemed weird to be the only one.

Luckily, I was one of the only ones that had a seat open next to me, so I stretched out. They served dinner, and I chose the pasta. The idea of eating chicken from a plastic container grossed me out. The tortellini weren't that good, but the bread was so I just finished that instead.

By the time they turned on the second movie, I was pretty alert and awake. Taken 2 started playing, and the irony wasn't lost on me. Great movie to watch as you're on the way to spend your semester in Europe...

When I looked out the window, we were flying over these amazing snow-capped mountains. We were flying right into the sunrise when the flight attendants served coffee and muffins, and said that we had about 50 minutes left.

When we got off the plane, I knew something was wrong. The men whose jobs it were to bring the gate-checked baggage up were just milling around, and I felt like an idiot standing there and waiting as they got wheelchairs for the handicapped people on the flight. The girls had gotten off the plane and were waiting for me at the shuttle, but I still didn't have my suitcase. I had my stub from the tag that was attached when I gate-checked it, and I tried to ask someone but they just shrugged me off. I was so confused, so I frustratedly walked up to the tunnel, suitcase-less. I almost started to cry, just because I was so tired and confused. When I saw the girls, I told them the problem as the flight attendants came up to the shuttle. They overheard me, and the American woman was immediately nice and helpful. One of the men looked at me and said, "We would have never gate-checked in Philly." What?! Then how come I have a ticket stub in my hand?? We got on the shuttle to the baggage claim, got off, got our passports and visas stamped, and I stood nervously waiting for my bags, hoping that both of mine would show up. They both did. Apparently, my gate-checked bag wasn't put in the cargo hold, but where the rest of the luggage was instead.

We met up with some of the other girls, and after another person went through a luggage debacle, we were off to pick-up where CEA could get us. The woman we met was really nice, but I don't think she was expecting as many of us. There were a total of eight of us coming in from JFK and Philly.

When we got to the car, the CEA woman got into it a little with the driver, who definitely wasn't expecting so many of us. Luckily, there were three cars (all Mercedes, and everyone who drove past us was driving a Mercedes. Maybe that was all the car services?) and after a half hour of figuring out how to pile all the luggage in, we were off.

The first thing we were amazed at was all of the palm trees. It wasn't that warm (low 50s), but they were everywhere. As we rode on, we passed ancient ruins and then drove past the Colosseum. When we passed that, it all finally felt real.