This flight leads to Rome

Flew OKC to Chicago. Arrived 9am at Midway. Took the metro to the Loop and tried to get breakfast at Wildberry Pancakes on E Randolph St. Everyonw else had the same idea on this 4th of July weekend and they were lined up waiting for 1 3/4 hours. I Uber d my way to O'Hare and got a bagel and cream cheese and waited for Steve in Terminal 3, who walked by randomly nearly as soon as insat down to contact him and figure out where he was. 

Our flight boarded at 4:15. We had two seats along the side, and thankfully not in the middle 5 seats. Wine arrived in plastic cups (but hey it was free). Dinner followed with more wine. We set up Steve's laptop to watch "Vinyl" a new Scorsese-Jagger series about the record industry in New York in the seventies. Shortly before this picture, I spilled Steve's wine into his lap.

Sleep as a joke. So was trying to watch the movies i had rented from Amazon. I listened to a couple of great podcasts from This American Life and finally drifted off about 2 hours before landing.  Landing at Fumicino was beautiful. We flew across the Ligurian sea over thr Riviera and on to neat fields of green and plots of grape vineyards. Fumicin was easy and friendly, not daunting like Milan Malpensa.

La Vita Romana

I explain in my best italian to our shuttle driver we are staying near the Spanish steps. He replies in french which really confuses my sleep-deprived brain. I am searching for italian meaning and coming up with nothing. When i show him the address, he keeps asking "This is it?" Si. Again "This is it?" Si ,si. But this is outside of il centro. Not at Spanish Steps. Ah. Well a month long misunderstanding begins to unravel at this moment. Our accommodations are not where i thought at all. It will cost us each $20 to go there. Va bene. He is nice, helpful, and let's us grab un caffe. Certo! È italiano! The friendly cab driver mutters profanity to the crazy drivers as 3-4 lanes of traffic try to squeeze into two lanes. Helmeted vespa -ites in business suits hold cell phones between their shoulder and face. They slip with agility through unimaginable small spaces as they wind their way through traffic. The cab driver seems unflustered by these helmeted two wheelers grazing his bumper.  We arrive at Via Acqui, 16. Home to Pier Luigi ( his internet password says Luigi god of light), and Charlie the cat-size dog, who naps with us. There is laundry hanging out on the balcony across the way. The sounds of Rome come in on the breeze through the open door.   Rome. The Patheon beckons, but so does sleep. Once my wired and confused body remembers how to sleep, i drift for an hour. Rome, we have returned to adore you.