Take Me Back to BNA!!

After this travel experience, I don’t think I want to travel internationally again. I’m very much traumatized.

The flight from BNA to Boston was great! I made it to the airport, easily navigated through TSA, found my gate, and even got a snack. The flight departed and arrived on time, with no turbulence! I thought it was going to be a good day. Oh, how I was wrong.

The Boston airport was a little more complicated. I arrived at Terminal A and had to travel to Terminal T, but I found my way there with the help of some nice strangers. I may or may not have taken an elevator trying to go to a floor I was already on… I located my gate and headed to the bathroom when I got a text message: my flight from Boston to Amsterdam was delayed. Oh, I was panicking, but trying to stay calm. I ran into Brooke, the girl I would be traveling with on my third flight, and let her know the situation. Her flight was earlier than mine from Boston to Amsterdam, so she suggested I ask if there was room to board her flight to avoid further delays. Of course, the flight was full, but the gate agents checked the delay and assured me it wouldn’t affect my travel schedule. I would still arrive in Amsterdam with enough time to board my flight to Florence.

So I sat down, pulled out my laptop, and started editing my blog posts and filming some TikTok videos, feeling proud of myself for handling this little bump without a complete meltdown. If only it were that simple. Seven minutes later, I got another text message, and all hell broke loose. That thirty-minute delay turned into a three-hour delay. BAHAHA! I saw that message and entered into a state of psychosis. No longer was I a vision of calm, cool, and collected, because a three-hour delay would ensure I would not make my connecting flight to my final destination.

I pulled up FaceTime and called my dad because I needed a real adult at this point. His flight tracker had yet to update, so he reassured me I would still arrive on time, and I was trying to explain to him that it was quite literally impossible. My mom hopped on the phone and told me to talk to a gate agent. Okay, I could do that, but the gate agents said they were no longer taking questions and left. At this moment, any semblance of togetherness had vanished, and I found my way to the nearest bathroom. Ten points to anyone who can guess what I did in the bathroom. If you guessed sob, you would be correct! Congratulations. Sometimes you just need a good little cry.

I had met my maximum of adulting for the day. Once I finished my cry, I attempted to dry my face and headed to another Delta counter where they confirmed I wouldn't make my next flight. Only this agent told me to head to the ticket counter where they would rebook my flight and give me a credit for a hotel. I’m sorry, HOTEL! Excuse me, sir, what do you mean by hotel. I have to be in Florence tomorrow, not in Boston!

With this new revelation, I tried to find my way to the ticket counter, but I felt the tears welling up and the tingle in my cheeks. I was about to start crying again whether I wanted to or not. I found a seating area, called my aunt, and once again began to cry. While I was crying, a little girl who couldn’t have been more than two was looking at me confused and trying to alert her mom.

Once some semblance of togetherness returned, I made my way to the ticket counter where I stood for an hour. When I finally made it to the front, I explained my problem; my flight to Amsterdam had been delayed and I would no longer make my flight to Florence, but I still had to be there by Sunday. It turns out this flight delay messed up a lot of other people! One of which was another study abroad student named Deanna.

Deanna was participating in the same study abroad program that I was, so we had the same issue. She lived in Boston, and her mom had already dropped her off at the airport and was on her way back home when Deanna called her about the flight troubles. Her mom turned around and came all the way back, and was with her at the ticket counter going toe to toe with the Delta agents advocating for us!

There were no more flights from Boston to Amsterdam or even Amsterdam to Florence, so we were in a precarious situation. All the flights would have us arriving either on orientation day (Monday) or on the first day of classes (Tuesday), both of which were non-starters. Deanna’s mom had the excellent idea to see if there were any flights to Rome – Rome is about an hour and a half train ride to Florence – and thankfully there were! Problem solved!

Deanna said she would only consider riding the train if I came with her, and of course, I did!

Thank God Almighty for Deanna and her mother! Without them, I do not know what I would have done. I was quite literally hanging on by an ever-fraying thread and just wanted to go home.

The final travel plan was: Boston to Lisbon, Lisbon to Rome, and Rome to Florence (by train).

Our flight from Boston departed at 11:15 PM, so we were at the Boston airport for about six hours. That flight was smooth sailing, and I could feel the hope and life coming back into me. The rest of this trip was going to be good. I could feel it!

We all know where this is going, right?

We hopped off the plane and checked the details for the next flight, only there was nothing there. No gate and no boarding time, but we weren’t worried. We’d just wait for the flight to show up on the big board, only it never did. Closer to the time of our flight, we started getting nervous and tried to ask around and walk to different gates, but to no avail. This other college student ended up noticing us and saw that we were distressed and helped us out. TURNS OUT, we were in the wrong terminal.

The line in question

So we raced around trying to figure out where to go. I saw a sign that said connecting flights and figured that had to be us; we followed it all the way to this long line to customs. When I tell you this line was the equivalent of 5:00 Nashville, standstill traffic, believe it. We moved centimeters in half an hour. Once again, we still didn’t know when our boarding time was, so we were going off estimates in our head, and by our calculations, we were quickly approaching boarding time and starting to panic, rightfully so. There would be no more flights to Rome that day if we missed this flight. We were convinced we were cursed.

Ten minutes before our estimated boarding time, the line started moving. It turned out they only had one person stamping passports. Why? Lord knows! They added four more people, and we were able to make it through. We power-walked to our boarding gate, and as soon as we got there, they started boarding. I read my book and slept the majority of this flight.

Deanna and I were seated in different zones, so we didn’t get off the plane together. She should have gotten off first, so when I got off, I was looking around for her, but couldn’t find her. Maybe she went to baggage claim? I walked down there, picked up my (dented) luggage, and searched for her… she was nowhere to be seen. The anxiety started clawing back up my throat and the nervous laughter began spilling out; it was at this moment that I realized we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. Rookie mistake.

I thankfully spotted her a couple of minutes later and we immediately went up to each other with our phones extended, because that was traumatic. I was worried she left and she was worried I had left. 

We eventually realized that we would not make it to the school within the check-in time and were worried about potentially having to book a hotel for the night. We decided we’d cross that bridge when it arrived, but in the meantime, we still needed to get to Florence, so Deanna went on her phone and booked us both train tickets from Rome Termini to Firenze Santa Maria Novella (the Florence train station). As we were scrambling to the trains, I started wondering if we were in the right place. The ticket said Rome Termini, but we were in Rome Fiumicino. We make it to the trains, walk to the ticket counter, and ask if we are in the right spot, and sure enough we aren’t. It’s an eighteen-minute train ride from where we were to the train station that travels to Florence. Might I add, the initial tickets we booked were nonrefundable. 

We book the correct ticket and get on the train. I decided to call FUA to see what could be done about housing arrangements for the night, and they would allow our roommates to let us in the apartments for the night and check in the following morning. I could have cried. I was so happy. 

Rome Termini will haunt my dreams. There were so many people and I was overstimulated and sleep-deprived. Deanna and I now had the task of booking another train from Rome to Florence. She calls her and her mom sends us some ticket options. Deanna books the first one her mom sends and hands me her phone since I was not getting any service. I start the process of picking the ticket when I realize it’s set for the wrong day. Deanna bought a ticket for a train that would depart next Sunday. Again, the ticket was non-refundable. After that mishap, I decided we needed professional assistance, and sought guidance from a ticket booth where this sweet sweet man helped us pick a ticket making sure we were in the right place and headed to the right destination. God Bless Him. 

Now all we had to do was wait for the train to arrive at the station! 

We board the train, load our luggage, take a seat, and think in an hour and a half we will finally be in Florence. Wrong!

The train stops thirty minutes to our final destination. The curse continues. Turns out there was either someone on the train who wasn’t supposed to be or there was someone near the tracks – the translation was fuzzy. And we sat for what was supposed to be a twenty-minute delay that turned into almost forty minutes. 

At this point, nothing surprised us. 

A little over two hours later, we arrived in Florence! Yay! We dragged our suitcases down a flight of stairs and then up two more as the elevator was broken. The only remaining task was getting to the apartments. Deanna suggested Uber, so I tried to find a ride to no avail. A bystander suggested a taxi company and so we called. Deanna’s taxi arrived first and whisked her away. We shared our locations with each other since we would be riding to different locations. My taxi arrived soon after and dropped me off. 

I called my roommate Brooke, and half sobbed into the phone, “I’m here!” She had to come down to get me as I could not find the apartment door. As we carried my luggage up the stairs I quietly cried because I was just so happy to be done! 

Some of the girls were up, waiting for me, and greeted me when I walked in. They were so sweet and kind and exactly what I needed at that moment. I was too tired to worry about what an awful first impression I was making, but they didn’t seem to care. They asked if I had eaten anything and I realized the only thing I had consumed all day was two saltines. One of my roommates, Olivia, offered to walk with me to grab some food and I was so thankful. Most everything ended up being closed, so we went back to the apartment, and everyone assured me tomorrow would be better. And it was. 

What should’ve been a 9:35 AM arrival time turned into 12:42 AM, but I made it in the end.