We arrive in Roma 7 hours later than planned. In spite of incessantly checking the status of our checked baggage to ensure that it was on our Rome flight, we watch at the Roma bag claim as all other passengers retrieve bags with increasingly sinking feelings. After speaking with a Lufthansa agent, we learn that our bags –including our costumes and backdrops–never left Dulles. The agent takes down our hotel address and promises to do her best to get the bags to us.
Sans costumes and backdrops, we leave the Rome airport to find our charter bus, whom friends at home thankfully informed of our late arrival. At least one thing goes much better than planned–we had been super worried about getting our prop guns through customs, and instead waltz through the exit with only what we have in hand.
The bus ride is BREATHTAKING. We fight our exhaustion because every time we squeeze an eyeball open, we face views of ancient churches, olive trees, and ancient towns clustered on hilltops. And as Adam says, “I know it’s the same sunset, but it’s better here.”
Wine at the gas station store is cheaper than Coke. We’re in Italia.