The nearest city not named Pisa with an international airport was Rome. Thankfully I found 2 flights going from Rome to Madrid with plenty of seats – one was at 9:45 am, the other at 21:00. However, in order to make either flight, I needed to find a train that would to Rome from Florence. Because you can't buy tickets online, I had to go to the train station around 22:00 to reserve a seat (all this of course I did before booking the flight because I had to ensure that I would make it to Rome and so that I could determine which flight I could make). I got a train ticket for 5:50 am with the hope that I could catch a 9:45 am flight to Madrid. Unfortunately, I did not realize that the train from Florence to Rome was a 3 hour ordeal; had I booked the early flight out of Rome, I have had just under and hour to unboard the train, find transportation to the airport, get through security and board the plan. Not happening. Instead I opted for the 21:00 pm flight to Madrid; looked like I’d have a full day in Rome to bum around.
But it doesn’t end there. When the Canadian crew got back to the hostel (see post below from my Florence synopsis, they were my roommates in the hostel), they told me they were going to Rome too, but on the 11:00 am train. They invited me to join them and tour the city for a few hours before I headed to the airport. I knew that you could change your train reservation once free of charge, so it sounded like a good idea to me; I planned on going to the train station first thing in the morning, switch tickets, and then join them.
"Planned" is the key world. I rolled out of bed at 5:20, got to the station at 5:30, and went to the ticketing machine to switch trains (ticket window wasn’t open yet). To my chagrin, only 2 trains were available: the 5:50 I was already on and the 18:00 pm that would not get me to the airport in time. It was 5:40. I didn’t have my luggage. I bolted out of the staion and hailed a cab, expressing my urgency in blatent terms. He broke innumerable traffic laws on the way to my hostel, I heaped all my clothes into my bag, and he broke even more traffic laws to get me back to the train station at 5:51. As I ran through the station’s entrance, the train was half way out the gate. I dropped my bag where I stood and took off after the train. To anyone wondering, no matter how desperate you look or how fast you run, once the train has started, it ain’t stoppin for ya.
I helplessly/frantically walked to the ticket office (with a person working there) that had just opened to see if there was any way I could get on one of the 15 trains to Rome Termini – there was no way that that many people were going to Rome on a Wednesday morning/afternoon. Turns out, when switching tickets on the machine (instead of buying a ticket for the first time on it like I had the night before), they don’t show all the available options because the one ticket works for any train that leaves in the next 12 hours (hence why it only showed the 5:50 and the 18:00 options). All I had to do was talk to the conductor, ask if there was an available seat and I’d be good to go. By that point, I was exhausted yet wide awake, packed up yet disheveled, stressed yet relieved, but most of all, ready to get to Rome so I could finally breath easily. Sorry Canucks, I hope you have a good time in Rome, but I ain’t waitin 'till 11:00 for you; the 6:10 to Roma Termini pulled in the station and I didn’t even think to look back. Funny thing is, no one on the train checked my ticket and I just as easily could have walked on without issue.
Lessons learned: there is a definite advantage to planning in advance. I should look into considering that more often, but it’s not nearly as exciting. On the other hand, if there is ever a need to get something done at the very last possible second – be it a paper on King Charles II, study for an ECON 410 final, pack for freshman year of school, (Mom, Dad, or whoever, I’m sure you can add a few more examples here), or booking reservations to get home from Italy – I have demonstrated more times than I’m proud of that it can be done. I think I’ll be better off applying the former lesson in the future though.
In 2 weeks, Rome hasn’t changed. I got to go inside the Coliseum and the archaeology site this time as well as eat some pizza with a glass of Italian wine for lunch during my 14-hour layover, so the stress was not for naught. Best yet, I didn’t ever have to take a taxi so there was never an issue there.
And now the beginning of the end has come, from Florence to Rome to Madrid to Toronto to Atlanta. Come Friday I’ll be eating Chickfila instead of tapas, taking road trips instead of discount airline flights, and clocking hours of work instead of leisure. I’ll save writing my final synopsis of the entire trip for the flight back to the homeland, so I’ll close this post off by saying I’ve safely made it to Madrid. I have a day to meet up with Colin, Shannon and Hillary again and hang out here. Weird how things fell into place and my last day in Europe will resemble the first (minus Jorge).
¡Hasta pronto!
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