After our way-too-early drop off at the Leonardo DiVinci Airport in Rome, we flew from Rome to Brussels on Brussels Airways. Despite the plane being a quarter-full, our row ended up with me, my husband, and some rando dude all squished into one row, and somehow I ended up in the middle seat. I politely asked the flight attendant if I could move to one of the myriad empty row before takeoff and she quickly agreed. I hopped up one row and had poorman’s business class – an economy row all to myself. That is until the kid behind my husband kept kicking his seat and snagged the aisle seat in my once-empty row.
The flight to Brussels felt a lot longer than the 2 hours it was supposed to be but we were treated to a beautiful sunrise along the way. Fortunately, we had enough time in Brussels to go through passport control although I still don’t understand why it takes so long for the exiting process. Coming into any country, yes I understand that the process is tedious because you don’t want to let just any random person into your borders – whatever. But leaving? They should be like, here’s your exit stamp, get the hell out of here. Unless you’ve completely overstayed your visa but then they should just quickly whisk you off to the office where they do things with rubber gloves but it would allow the damn line to move faster…
I digress. Finally through the tedium of exiting passport control, we wandered to our U.S.-bound gate. I had the dreaded SSSS on my boarding pass and was hoping that the process would not involve rubber gloves. Even though I’m completely innocent of any smuggling or other nefarious activity, I still get nervous going through those processes. The line for Groups 1 and 2 boarding stretched two gates down the hall. (I still find it hard to believe every single person on a 777 was in either of those groups but everyone was in line.) Fortunately, a security screener dude walked down the line looking for people with SSSS on their boarding passes. I was pulled out of line, walked to the front, got my bag and hands swabbed, and then was allowed to board the plane just as they were boarding first-class. In all honesty, that was the most pleasant experience with having SSSS on my boarding pass ever and I got first crack at the overhead bins to boot.
Originally, our flight was supposed to be Brussels to Chicago and I had specifically booked it that way so we would be on a 767, which I find more comfortable than a 777. United Airlines decided to switch our inbound flights a few weeks after booking AND NOT FREAKING TELL ME! A week before our departure, I had looked up all the information to give to my mom and saw the switch. I was none too happy. Instead of being on a 767, we were now on a more cramped 777 and worse, we were flying into Washington Dulles (which I loathe) rather than O’Hare (which I loathe marginally less). I was able to at least get me a window seat and the hubby an aisle seat but we had some ginormous dude in the middle who manspreaded like it was his job. For eight hours, I had his elbows in spots my hubby isn’t allowed to touch. He kept trying to move his feet into my footwell and I’ll be damned if you’re going to take both all the space both above and below. Look, sitting in the middle seat sucks and I will concede the armrest to you, but I’m not giving all of the space within the confines of my seat too just because you’re too cheap to buy a different seat. It became a battle of wills and even though I do not like people touching me at all, I refused to budge my legs or arms to cede one millimeter more of space to that jerk.
Mercifully, the flight ended and I was able to reclaim my personal space. Passport control in Dulles must have finally been figured out because the process took seconds for me with Global Entry and the same amount of time for my hubby without Global Entry. We claimed our bags, rolled them past the customs dudes, rechecked them, went through TSA screening, and then were free to track down some food. I wasn’t able to actually eat the in-flight meal, not because it was disgusting (which it most assuredly was) but because I did not even get enough room between the plane fuselage and Mr. I-Will-Take-Up-All-The-Space-I-Possibly-Can to even use a knife and fork to eat!
After food, I was less crabby and we made our way to the gate for our final leg home to Austin. We were on an Embraer 170, a small jet, so it was just me and my hubby in the row and he was under strict orders to remain within the confines of his assigned seat. He dozed while I finished my book. It was a long 3 hour flight, mostly because my back was killing me at that point and I just wanted to get home. Landing in Austin, I was glad we ate in Dulles because nothing was open in the airport at 9pm and we had nothing in the condo besides olive oil and salt. We got a Lyft to our condo, glad to be finally home after a long day of uncomfortable travel. It was really weird not to be greeted by the kitty and it made me really sad to realize that for every trip we take from now on we aren’t going to have a furry welcoming committee anymore.
Italy was an amazing time, so much more so than I expected. I got to see some amazing art and architecture. I ate and shopped far more than I usually do on vacation. The wines were outstanding for the most part. And it was slightly gratifying not to have had to do all of the work preparing for the trip (don’t tell my husband I said that). Every single one of our Thanksgiving Abroad trips have been incredible for different reasons. I can’t wait to continue this tradition.
Awesome post! Keep up the great work! 🙂