my journey from the place with the most beuatiful people to the least beautiful people, and then back up the scale
so on sunday i got back from italy. i got some nice stuff there, including a diesel skirt and shell earings and green capris for 10 euro (12 bucks) and a tan which i really needed. the problem is all the time it takes to get home, which is a lot of time to get depressed and first your 1 hour away from paradise and then you take a nap and wake up and your 2 hours away from paradise and then 4 and all the way back to where you started before, wherever your home is. and as you get further away from the place you love you hate leaving it more and more and its a horrible feeling.

what makes it even worse is how obvious the changes are from where you want to be to the stopover to back home. everything was great in rome and then conditions got depressing in detroit and then a miserable flight and i was back home at my boring house reading my housesitter's note about how all my fish were eaten by raccoons.

to start off, many of the youngish (native) guys in the rome airport were at least somewhat good looking, and i think it would be safe to say that the fiumicino airport wins the award for best-looking security people (or maybe the naples one, i havent seen it). in addition to this, the god of italy was behind me in the unending line to get to the metal detectors (later i asked my dad if we ever went through metal detectors at all, and then i remembered that i was very DISTRACTED at that time). he was tall and his shirt (which was by diesel and i was wearing my diesel skirt) didnt have sleeves and i seem to remember him having very nice arms, and he was in that late 20s age range of guys that i really shouldnt hit on because what could ever happen to that? if i had to give one celebrity comparison i would say vin diesel, but a smaller version with a really gorgeous perfect face. i was pretty sure he was a blatalian, but after seeing so many combinations of naturally tan people and black people i couldnt really say how much he was of either. he was holding one of those bags over his shoulder that you put a nice suit (or dress) in when ure going to a wedding or something.

this line we were in lasted a long time and had switchbacks so i had a lot of time to stare at him when he wasnt looking and glance anyway when he was looking. and then the line split up into 2 different airlines and he was RIGHT behind me and then he walked into the same gate section (20-24) as me (21). but i hung back with the stores to play with the sisley sunglasses which i should of bought btw cuz some actually looked good on me and in america u hafta pay a load for them.

when i went into the place with all the gates, i was again distracted by sunglasses in a furla store where the salesperson winked twice at me because he thought i didnt see it the first time. again, nice sunglasses! but the price wasnt put up and i didnt dare ask what it was.

i went over to gate 22 because gate 21 was full and sat there for a while, realized there wasnt any place to mail all my postcards, and then remembered about the blatalian. and then i got worried because i thought about probability, and then i thought about fate, and then i remembered how whatever power rules the world really has something against me and i realized i needed to find the blatalian because he would not be on my flight and i would never seem him again. i walked by gate 21, and checked gate 22, and 23 too. but there werent stores by the other ones so i had no excuse to walk by them and he may have already gotten on his plane at that point or be in some store far away or in the bathroom. and then i got on my plane and was certain i would never see him again.

it didnt seem like something that would be too hard to handle, but the problem was i had no picture of him (there was no oppurtunity to pull out my camera and aim it at him and not look crazy) and i was so stunned by being able to look at him over and over again before that i hadnt really the details, and i quickly forgot most things about him. i seem to have a photographic memory for almost anything but people, probably why i can draw anything fine unless its supposed to look like a human. so as i sat there on the plane i struggled to come up with a picture of him in my mind and wasnt satisfied. i had a dream maybe 3 hours through the flight and his face was in it, but when i woke up i lost the mental image. that made the flight as painful as it could possibly be on a plane where you get to choose what movies you watch, its big enough so that you never have to crawl over more than one person to get to the bathroom, and there are italians and i can hear them speaking italian.

landing in detroit was horrible. i knew there wouldnt be nearly as many italians on the plane to keep up that italian feeling, no more handing out amaretti cookies, and the plane was obviously not going to be as nice. i had to spend 2.5 hours in the detroit airport and the only good thing i can say was that i had lunch at chilis and the boneless chicken somethings were good. detroit has an AWESOME airport, with big tvs, good food, internet cafes, and a mini train to take u to the right gate, but it is hell spending time there when you were last in italy. this is because nobody there could get close to the attractiveness of the people of italy. sitting in our gate was a guy with blonde hair sticking off the top of his head while the sides were shaved-ish, and a blonde mustache and a shirt that said "when you're finished sucking my head, bite me" and had a picture of a lobster on it, and i think there should be a rule that ugly people cant buy shirts like that. he had a girlfriend/wife/mother of children with him actually, she was albino with spots.

the plane we got on after that looked like it was built in the 70s and hadnt been cleaned since. the seats didnt have any sort of covering on the tops of them, and the fabric on the seats didnt look removable, and they never would take the time to clean the damn things anyway so i figured i was sleeping against the dandruff and lice of several previous passengers. the rows were 3 and 3 with an aisle down the middle, and my family was split up into 2 halves, and i had a window seat meaning if i wanted to go to the bathroom i would have to crawl over one parent and one stranger and of course work around the fat people whose arms would stick into the aisle. oh and there was a gay couple behind me and they were sooo chatty it was hysterical (we were headed to san francisco yaknow), of course they spent plenty of time critiquing the plane. did i mention there was no movie on this flight? and how long? 5 hours. 5 hours where you are not given a pillow, not given a blanket, not given any form of entertainment and are freezing to death. i was dressed for rome weather and on the previous flight i had a blanket. i asked a lady if i could have a blanket, 3 hours later when i expected to die soon i asked another lady and she brought me one finally. i was lucky to be next to the window because you can hold your forehead in the curves of plastic around the window when you want to sleep, or you can always sit straight up and fall asleep with your head tilted kinda forward, which is painful just to look at.

after all this hell i returned home and slept. well after listening to loveline a while cuz i needed something to cheer me up and make me laugh. but now i am truly feeling the effects of post-italy depression and school-dreading and i need to get that damn summer reading done. and i need italians, damnit! i wish i had enough time to go to north beach.

click to bitch