Irene, The Big Apple (A.K.A ,Yankie land,) and Cute Boys.

(Here is my post if i was able to have gotten wireless internet yesterday at the airport.)

I know those of you who weren’t informed and are reading this are probably thinking this is my first post from Italy. Well I’m sorry to inform you that you’re wrong. Due to Irene my flight on Saturday was canceled because I had a layover in New York. Still do, and that’s where I’m writing from. (And I thought Houston was bad.)

Thankfully my dad was persistent enough with my stubborn tendency and had me rebook my flight for Tuesday. Although I still stand my ground that if my flight hadn’t been cancelled we could have made it. I just know it.

Now that this  bit of news is out of the way. Let’s rewind time.

I was packed. I really was, I just needed to put the finishing touches you could say into my bag and zip it up and I would have been just peachy and fine. Now keep in mind that this was before we figured my flight would be canceled so I still thought my flight would be on. (Keep in mind I’m referring back to Friday). I walk into the room at my mom’s house that I was bunking in while I was in town for the day and none other than the queen of the household Bassey (our Basset hound that thinks the world revolves because she breathes) is laying in the small spaced left in my bag for for my toiletries carrier.

I, like any other person who very much dislikes dog hair all over perfectly clean and packed cloths, snapped at her to get out. Well we suspect she had been beaten before we took her in (she showed up at the farm) so she instantly frightened and peed all over my bag. I was livid and scooped her up throwing her out of the room yelling as I went that I was going to find the nearest airport and send her to one of those countries that’s eats dogs. She went and hid under my mom’s and her boyfriends bed for the rest of the day and refused to come out until my mom crawled underneath there to drag her out.

                So yes I was packed and ready and then I had to unpack and wash everything… twice. So yesterday between last minute errands that got postbonned now that we had more time and a visits, I didn’t get around to repacking until later that night. And my overstuffed yet well packed bag shows for it. (That Tetris that I played growing up came in handy for once).

                It was one before me and my mom finally fell asleep in my room, the faithful and clingy Bassey sleeping between us. (Good news though she stayed far away from my bags.) We had to wake up at four to get ready load my bags and get one ht road by five. She lives about an hour, maybe a bit more away from DFW, the airport in Dallas I flew out of. Factor in our tendencies to get lost and morning traffic that as always insane, we left right on time.

                Because I was leaving on Tuesday instead of a weekend my dad went back home, a near four to five hours away, and I said goodbye to him on Sunday. So after arriving at the airport a bit early due to good traffic (SHOCKER!) my mom was able to go back to the gates with me. My flight got delayed, I was about ready to rent a canoe and roe it over. Thankfully it was only fort-five minutes late and after laying around for about three hours and people watching as we laughed my mom and me hugged good-bye and I turned to board my plane.

                I slept for the first part after watching out the window. DFW actually got rain that morning and there were clouds (another shocker) so there wasn’t much to watch after we got up high enough.

                Fortunately bit eh time I did wake up, the man across the aisle snoring is to thank for that, literally. I thank him because I woke up to see us flying along the East coast. There was water and rivers and it was beautiful. And then there were large inlets we were flying over that kept getting larger until I wondered why I didn’t look up the route and then name of the Captain that landed his plane in the Hudson and request whatever plane he was on.

                I don’t mind water but my thing is why crash 14,000 feet or so only to have to swim to shore. I mean if I was meant to make one of those great swims I would have been born during the Titanic ere and owning one of those model-t fords. No not the motel ford, just one of them. I think their cute cars with personality.

 And while on the subject of Titanic what did exchange students do before there were airplanes and such? They took a ship across the ocean probably which if you ask me is great. Because you not only get that extra day or two not unwind and not have the stress of flying or restrictions, and those few days when your all packed and have nothing to do would be great for learning your language. It always seems their some type of paperwork keeping me from really just sitting down every day and studying. That’s not to say I don’t already know my reply when I get off my plane and they ask me how I am. “Molto Bene,  ma un po stanco.” Very good but a bit tired, that is my answer whether I sleep the whole way and wake up bright eyes and bushy tail or not. It’s like my lines in theater, it’s rehearsed, sounds good, and make me seem like I know what I’m doing. (Plus it will be a great excuse as to why I’m probably going to be wide eyed and slow and ask them to repeat themselves a million or two times. I’m horrible with accents.)

                After miles and miles of beautiful beaches and water I see a tall gray figure out of the water away from the main land. Of course being the southerner that I am, and even better a midlander for the past year. And for those that will Google  Midland wondering where that is, it’s in West Texas and its flat. Like you can see for sixteen miles then stand on a Campbell soup can and see another twenty miles.  I think this gray figure is the Statue of liberty. Kind of looks like a bent thumb with a hang nail from the height where at. Well as we drop lower I see that it is not the statue of liberty but like a nuclear looking plant thing with smoke. So not only did I over react and was freaking out in my seat but I think I just insulted the statue of liberty, one of America’s greatest landmarks by thinking it looked similar to something that created nuclear waste. Oops!

  I do the same thing again with a pillar for a bridge. At this point I’m just about to close the plane window to quit making a dork out of myself when the plane pitches the captain starts his descent.

                I didn’t realize JFK was so close to the water, because there for a second on our approach I thought out pilot might have been ex-air force and was having a mid-life crisis and was about to prove himself by landing this smaller sized plane on one of the many barge ships.

                Thankfully we land at the airport.

                It’s not over yet. I realized I had a Texas accent when I first moved to West Texas. It’s not as pronounced over there as it is in North Texas, but they still have on so it never went truly away.

                I get off the plane and got through this tunneled walk way into the main airport, only to find myself surrounded by bustling people and a completely different set up from the quiet easily navigational DFW. I turn to ask the man where to find terminal four and not two second after I open my mouth he get this goofy grin on his face. I realized only too late not only did my accent come across a bit heavy but I said "Ya’all."I might as well put the cowboy hat I have crammed into my carry-one and painted a billboard that said “Hi I’m from Texas” on it, with neon paints and maybe add some flashing lights.

                After the guy recovers, probably seeing my annoyed face, he directs me down to a gate that has a bus to take me to the terminal.

                WE DROVE AROUND THE RUNWAY AND AROUND PLANS. I was praying the whole time, comparing it to Houston traffic. It was worse because this is an International airport and these plans are huge!!!

                I had been getting glanced from people all day because of my jacket(Nay rotary Jacket for those of you who are lost by that statement), but I walk so fast they probably just saw the small sombrero that my friend and fellow Exchange student had given before he left. I was sitting down and she read the name tag I had on that said not only my name but “Ambassador to Italy.”

                She asked, I told, and she directed me toward my gate. It was hot in Terminal four and loud, I walked on way, and then the other, texting and calling people who had asked me how my flight had went and if I was okay as I searched. I finally found a table at Panda Express and sat down. Getting a hold of both of my parents and telling them that I was unleashed and unsupervised in New York, but doing well.

                It was the second I hung up my phone just how many foreign flights there were everywhere. For a second, foreign languages drowned out all English speakers. For a second I nearly had a panic attack, but took a deep breath, remembered that’s what it’s going to be like when I step of the plane in Italy and went to find me some food.

                I went to Panda Express. Like I said it was hot and a madhouse I did not feel like walking far. The guy at the line had been pretty much signing as he talked to man about his order. The man didn’t speak English.

                So when I stepped up, careful not give myself away and have another person give me a grin, he looked relieved that I spoke English. Saw my name tag, said he liked my name. And que my blush. (I blush as red as a tomato at the drop of a pin in an silent room, even if I’m not the one dropping it) It made everything hotter. I was about ready to go jump into that ocean we flew over.

                Grabbing my food I sat back down and my mother, bless her. Looked up what gate my flight was going to be assigned to since it didn’t show up on the board yet because it was so far out.

                That’s where I’m sitting now. At 6:25 p.m. in New York, JFK airport.

             In fact at this moment a cute boy that I think might be Australian walked by with an Aussie style cowboy hat. Excuse me for a minute while I covertly watch……… J.

                MY flight leaves at 9:15 as long as everything stays on schedule. I’ll sit here and twiddle my thumbs and talk to the lady in front of me that also asked me about my tag, and the lady beside me. Who I know is an American citizen, but originally from Italy.

                I’ll try to write as soon as I get settled in. I have to make sure I get a hold of my mom and dad first or I’m afraid they might come hunt me down.

     Oh and P.S. I was going to put pictures on my blog, but was told there’s no way to do it by the masses or on a separate page so I’m going to be posting them all to my Face book. Sorry for that inconvenience.

And as my dad would say.

Ciao, Baby. ;-).

                Oh I and I forgot to add. Everyone has this preconceived notion that I’m going to fall in love while I’m in Italy. And according to my mother it’s going to be mafia with my luck. I think people read and watched “Eat, Pray, Love”, “When in Rome” and “Roman Holiday” way too much. Plus it’s against one of the rotary rules. J.

Okay so now.

Ciao, baby. Until domani (tomorrow). Maybe. robably not, but it sounded good.