Before we even boarded our flight in Atlanta people were swarming like bees around the airline personnel who were supposed to be checking us in. They pushed and shoved, jostling for position in a mob instead of forming a semi neat line. The Americans were blatantly obvious--they tried to form a line.
"One line people! Please form one line so everyone can get on the plane!" The man behind the ticket counter seemed exasperated. I wanted them to calm down; all the jostling was only ratcheting up my already high level of discomfort.
To be honest I was completely terrified. I was moving to Italy. I had dreamed of this day for years and it was finally happening. I knew no one in the whole of Europe, let alone in Rome. I had to be completely out of my mind.
I had been to Rome briefly with my family. The summer after I graduated high school, my parents had taken the family to Italy for 10 days. The first 5 were spent in Rome; the last 5 were spent in Venice. Unfortunately on our second full day in Rome I had come down with a bad cold. I don't particularly remember liking the city. I liked Venice better. It was quieter there. Calmer. The hustle and bustle of the Roman Vespas and the SmartCars had overwhelmed me. Everything in Rome just moved so quickly. I couldn't keep up.
During my last year of law school in Baltimore, I had done research on where I should work after graduation. Through some diligent research I had compiled a list of employers around the world that I thought looked promising. Resumes and cover letters went out and calls for interviews began coming back. The only employer that had really panned out was one in Rome. I had told myself that it was the market and if I widened my net and tried more American companies I would have better luck. I didn't have to move there. I couldn't deny the pull Rome had over me despite my inhibitions. So here I stood, nervously clutching my boarding pass as I waited to board my flight to Frankfurt, Germany. From there it was just another short flight down to Rome.
The airline personnel finally got the mob settled into something that vaguely resembled a line and we resumed boarding. First class and other lucky souls had boarded the plane prior to the rushing of the gate.
Once on the plane I bumped awkwardly down the aisle looking for my seat, my carryon duffel accidentally whacking a few people in the back of the head as I went. Lucky for them it was mostly full of clothes. I apologized to each person I hit and attempted to get my bag under control.
The plane was one of those jumbo jets with 5 seats in the middle and two on either sides, making for rows of 9 seats. My seat was on the aisle in one of the 5 person sections. I couldn't decide if that was a blessing or a curse. It gave me a little more room to spread out, but at the same time I was the whim of everyone who wanted to get out of the row. That meant constantly moving out of my seat to let people in and out. Nothing I could do about that except hope that I was seated next to some folks with large bladders. I stowed my duffle in the overhead bin, settled my purse under the seat in front of me and began making myself a sort of nest in my seat. My book went in the seatback pocket, my iPod went in my lap and my journal and pen were within arms reach under the seat in front of me. The pen was stuck just so in the journal's spine and the journal jutted out of my purse so I could grab it easily. The blanket wrapped around me like a shroud and the pillow got tossed to the floor. Silly little airplane pillow wasn't good for much. I couldn't get the thing situated right under my head so I ditched it. Book, blanket and iPod in place I finally settled in for the long flight to Rome.
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