The adventure has started. So we are 3 hours into the flight from NYC- all was going smoothly- on time departure just had a beverage- things were looking good until the pilot come on the loudspeaker "folks this is your captain and due to a navigation issue we cannot cross the atlantic and need to turn around and emergency land in Boston." WHAT! are you kidding me? Def the lesson from that is no matter what on my trip there are some things I cant control. Of course from all the news I read my mind thinks they find another person on the do not fly list and thats why we are turning around- like the times square guy they cought right before taking off. I swear Im not paranoid just a realist- so for the next hour lm listening to my father cursing me for choosing Delta, Delta itself and who ever made this plane with the defective navigation system. Funny a minute ago- he was sinking into his plush seat commenting on how nice the flight is, how great delta is etc. So for the next few hours back im listening to his meltdowns and then he takes the whole blanket and puts it over is head (like when you put a parrot to sleep at night) Of course people are staring at this mummy under the blanket next to me. So he looks like a crazy person, there is a screaming baby the entire trip and the smell of the bathroom that is pungent behind me. Im already over it! So we land- the plane is clapping ( I have no idea why we should be landing in Rome not Boston! So we see a worker enter the front of the plane and then we see the captain of the plane with a uniformed cop walk back to the plane and arrest someone and he is escorted off. !!I told you im psychic! I new it was bs what they were saying!! I just knew it! so then the plane is all awake wondering what just happened. Of course the pilot and flight attendants don't mention any of it. They still claim there is navigation issues (its a brand new plane) and we are stuck for another hour grounded. Finally we take off- I have no leg room- the baby still crying and my dad in and out of his hibernation. every 5 minutes my dad is telling me what time it is in Italy, and when we were supposed to have arrived, and how many hours we are late. I get it dad. I get it. I cant sleep- and have visions of this plane exploding in mid flight- I hate to fly and thank god that esp didn't occur. We land my dad thinks we are going the wrong way to get our bags but were not- he grabs the first red bag off the belt convinced its his- but its not- i have to coax him to put it back on the belt- we do. It doesnt come back around now he thinks it was his bag and someone else got it- I get my bag- hes more pissed thinking his bag was stolen. Finally his real bag comes- he is quite now. We go to get tickets to Olbia which is in Sardinia and along that journey he manages to loose our little paper bag full of food. I swear god is going to make me a saint for the patience that I have for my father. I really think he is beginning to show signs of Dementia along with his A.D.D. We finally land again- greeted by my cousin. I see my sick Aunt bed ridden and its sad we both cry when we see each other. Its been a long few days to get here but in the end its always worth it. I am in love with Italy and see myself living here. Live laugh and love is the mantra and Im ready to sign the dotted line.
