Every time I think about my trip to Italy, I have no idea A. What the fuck I was thinking and B. How I didn't die.
I had never even traveled out of the state on my own and I decide I'm just going to fly off to Rome for a week by myself with zero plans. Drive to Cincy to fly to NYC on one of those 50 seater planes. Enter JFK through the fucking basement, and nearly miss my flight because I was at the wrong gate until about 5 minutes before take off. 12 hours later or so, I'm in Rome. Didn't realize that they had specifically marked city taxis and anyone without the markings are scammers fucking you out of money. So I legit shoot got Gyped. Then my hotel has the whole floor flooded out and they send me to another place. And from there, I spent a week just wandering around and hoping on buses.
Then the 24 hours of travel with Sicily. FUCKING SICILY. A small American white guy deep into Sicily after midnight, where there is no English anywhere and they don't even like main land Italians. My debit card wouldn't work there, a homeless dude tried to get me drunk, I didn't have any way of contacting anyone. Then I got locked out of the train station, had no money, no food. It was a scary day. Then kicked off at the next stop. Finally back to Rome 24 hours later. And a day after that, another 14 hour flight back.
