You're Full of Bologna!

Most people take 2 types of vacations. The first I call SPRING BREAK 07!!!! i.e. your going somewhere with great weather to drink and party your ass off if your single or if your married to relax by the beach for a few days while your kids swim in shark infested water. In these cases your typically going somewhere with as much cultural relevance as a 3rd grade art contest. Yes, I know you had a bitchin' time at Myrtle Beach but has anyone ever returned from SOUTH CAROLINA with a new perspective on life? Well maybe black people. The second is the ole' Clark Griswold Family Vacation Special. You pack your 2.5 kids in a hot car and take them around the country to see as many "sights" as possible. If these sights are the Washington Monument, the Grand Canyon. etc.. this trip could potentially not suck. If they include the Longaberger factory (believe me, I've been there) or the worlds largest ball of string than it's going to get ugly. Especially since the conditions in the back seat are not in compliance with the Genvea Convention. In either one of these cases you would not visit my first city, Bologna.

Bologna has no ocean. It has no lake. It has a few old churches and a pretty cool statue of Neptune, but honestly what city in this country couldn't say that? In fact as best I can tell, Bologna has only two things going for it. 1) Their airport is $200 cheaper to fly into then Florence, thus explaining our presence here and 2) Food. Like really, really good food. Bologna is known as the Breadbasket of Italy and I was intent on adding to my breadbasket before I left, even if it was only two days.

My first entry ended with our raged group of vagabonds making our way to the (correct) hotel. We arrived at 11 am, unfortunately according to the guy behind the counter giving me a "Mi Scusi" vibe (if you've seen Euro Trip you will get that, if not just picture a creepy Italian guy overly willing to take his pants off), our room wouldn't be ready for another hour. This being a Latin country, that meant anywhere between 15 minutes and 2 hours so I had some time to kill. Unfortunately the bellhop took our bags (and my other shoes) so I got to limp around the city like Barbaro. Great first impression.

We finally go to the room and settled in (btw, 1 hour in fact meant an hour and a half). It felt great to get off our feet for a while. There were three beds in the room thank God. Again, love my family but sleeping ass-to-ass with Unlce Albert or Danielle would not have been ideal. I laid down on my bed, hands crossed over my stomach staring at the ceiling and contemplated the magnitude of my journey. 16 hours ago when I rushed out of my Aunt's house seemed like a lifetime ago and half the world away. One of those was in fact true. It's amazing sometimes to ponder the realities of modern life. In the same amount of time Beverly at the Waffle House works a double shift, we traveled from Lewis Center, Ohio to Bologna, Italy. 150-200 years ago, which is not very long in the timeline of human history, a similar trip would have taken months or years. Neat stuff! Another reality of modern life is that electronics and house hold appliances in Italy don't work the same as they do in our country.

I consider myself a fairly intellectually capable young man. I've scored well on admission's tests, graduated for THEE Ohio State University (due as much to perseverance than anything else) and most recently entertained all of you with my mastery of the English Language. That established, I have had an ongoing feud with coffee machines my entire life. It began when I was in High School working at a local coffee shop where I caused several disasters, most notably when I forgot to put a filter in the coffee pot which if you are unaware, causes the pot to overflow onto whatever lies below, in this case my unfortunate bosses bare foot (stupid sandal wearing hippy). A couple years later a similar episode occurred while I was working at Max and Erma's. The entire second floor was closed for an hour while I cleaned up the mess. Still, none of these experiences prepared me for the duel I was about to have with the coffee machine in our room.

Before I go on, I need to explain this contraption to you so you can understand what I was dealing with. When you look at the room there was literally a bar to the right (go Melissa!), behind which had what appeared to be a plastic trey with a plastic coffee pot and a smaller trey for sugar and cream on top. The catch was this trey was plugged into the wall! Using my powers of deduction (87th percentile LSAT deductive reasoning portion. I'm just sayin') I concluded you fill the coffee pot up with watter to the line on the side which was about half way to the top, add the coffee grinds and the trey heats the coffee up. All of this was correct, and pretty cool too I might add. So I did like so, closed the top and looked for the button.

Wasn't on the side...

Not on the back....

Not on the pot...

Where is this effen' thing?

Five minutes of searching concluded in a call to the front desk where Mi Scusi guy and myself had a bazaar conversation in broken Italian which the exact dialog I am still unsure of, but he did promise to send a "colleague" up to assist us. The sum total effort of his "colleague" was to flip the switch at the bottom of the handle, turning the coffee pot on. Danielle's response was to laugh. All I could conjure up was, "Sono stupido" in an attempt at self-deprecation. Now armed with the knowledge of how to turn the damn thing on, I was pretty excited about this cool European coffee maker. I discussed the merits of this ingenious piece of equipment with Albert for several minutes until I felt the familiar sensation of scalding hot water on bare skin. Turning around I was greeted with the sight of boiling hot coffee shooting out the top of the coffee pot with the force and accuracy of a Super Soaker 3000. Fortunately I used my cat like agility (my friends don't call me Whiskers for nothing you know) to evade the incoming fire and remove the pot form the trey. Apparently this coffee machine does not turn itself off. Clearly not going on the Christmas list.

The next day was not uneventful, but not anything you would care to read about. We essentially ate really good food and looked at really old buildings. The highlight was probably La Basilica di San Petronio, a half finished church which is probably all you need to know about Bologna. It's main attraction has been left unfinished for 400 years. Although I will say I think my tagliatelle bolognese was probably better than the noodles in meet sauce I was offered on the plane. Score one for the good guys!

The next day was Sunday, the day we were to check in at our apartment in Florence. The plan was to board the train in Bologna at 8:45 so we arrived at the station around 8. I use the word plan because as you will see, on this trip very few things end up as they were intended. I spent the first few minutes discovering that although my ticket says I am going to Florence, I need to take the train to Rome. Why? Because Florence is on the way to Rome. How am I supposed to know this? I have no idea. I ask the attendant, a well groomed and fairly attractive girl in her mid-20's who spoke flawless English which track the train to Rome (Florence) would come in on. Her response: "Usually #7"

"Usually #7? Usually?" I responded.

She smiled, as if expecting my response. "Yes, usually."

"Well what day of the week is usually? Today is Sunday, which track will it be on today?" I said more than a little sarcastically.

"Today, 7!" She answered with pride I still do not know the source of. I thanked her and we headed to track #7. Only problem being getting to track #7 required going down a flight of stairs, through a tunnel and then back up the stairs. No problem, just find the elevator!

Finding the elevator did not prove to be a problem, but unfortunately it was locked. I found the customer service desk and explained out situation to the attendant who then explained to me that their elevator was closed until 9 am. Closed! Like the elevator requires a person to be open? What in the Hell causes a mechanical device to be closed? He did offer to show me where it is so I may use it at 9:00, 15 minutes after our train left (theoretically). We headed to the tunnel and began to strategize.

The logistical problem was such. We had an 82-year old man with little / no mobility, his wheel chair (useless), three checked pieces of luggage totaling 115lbs. (two of which can roll) and three carry-ons all of which are at least 20 lbs. but can go over a shoulder. We have to get the luggage and Albert through the tunnel to track #7. The luggage can not be left unattended ever and Albert can only be left alone if he is sitting down. Albert needs at least one person to help him down the steps, preferably me but the luggage can never not be with me because someone could easily steal it from Danielle (Jason your drawing this up into an LSAT logic game right now, aren't you? Be honest). So, pop quiz hot shot! What do you do?

The answer was Danielle took Albert across and sat him down while I stayed with the luggage and the wheel chair, making mean and nasty faces at strangers while flexing my upper-body in a sad attempt to look as intimidating as possible.  When Danielle returned we carried the luggage down and across. We got to track #7 with about 10 minutes to spare. Success! We made benches out of suitcases and talked about nothing waiting for our train to arrive. We waited...and waited....and waited. I guess Mussolini doesn't run the show around here anymore (for the neophytes who don't get this joke see here: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20090319183903AAWFsdX ).  

Around 9:05 I heard over the announcement: "Il treno da bologna a Roma arriverà  alla ** indistinguishable** numera tre invece numero sette." MOTHER OF GOD! They moved our train!

Me: "Danielle, our train was moved! We have to go! Track 3!"

Danielle: "What? No? They can't do that! That's not fair!"

Me: Mimicking my father, "Life isn't about fair. They can and the just did"

Danielle: "No! I'm not moving him until we know for sure."

Conveniently, they then made the same announcement in English: "The train from Bologna to Rome will arrive at track number three instead of number seven." Now convinced, she packed Albert up and we began the fire drill all over again.

We reached the other side and the train was still there! I ran up to the train employee and explained our situation. All he did was shake his finger at me, smile and close the door. I am glad to report to all of you I handled the situation with great aplomb! I simply put the five pieces of luggage I had just sprinted through a tunnel between two flights of stairs on the ground and calmly smacked the train...screamed "Bastardo Pazzo!!!"...threw one piece of luggage towards the train (now moving)... kicked another in the opposite direction ...and generally just made a complete fool of myself.

Fortunately I did manage to make one friend, as another train station employee was apparently so entertained by the incident he signed our ticket and allowed us to catch the next train to Rome. Third train being a charm, we boarded our luggage and with some difficulty got Albert up the steps and in a seat. Off to Florence!

Thanks to all of you who posted comments or read my first blog entry. It's fun to stay in touch with all of you and I hope you continue to do so. My goal is to make an entry every two days, so people like Nick can calm down. This won't be like one of Travis' ODW blogs that are like seeing a unicorn these days. My next entry will be about our first few days here inf Florence. Thanx again, please comment if you are so inclined!