Our Averi is a super fan of lemon. Lemonade, lemons with sugar, lemon soda. I told her it was because when I was pregnant with her, the only thing that soothed my nausea was lemonade. I mean, I am not wrong but she probably likes those things because…sugar. Anyhow, I was telling her that Europe has Fanta Limón, well I should say that I knew Spain had it, and I was really hoping that Greece and Italy did too. I told her I would bring some home for her to try if we ran into any. I didn’t see any in Athens, Santorini or Rome. That was, until we were inside the Leonardo da Vinci International Airport.
Our alarm went off early because our Uber was to be in front of our hotel at 8:30 for our 11:30 flight. I woke up to messages saying that our flight had been delayed two hours. So we rebooked our ride for later and went and had breakfast that’s when it hit us, we wouldn’t be making our connecting flight in Toronto. Fast forward an hour and a half, we were finally checked in and we were told that our luggage would meet us in San Diego. Sweet. We found a spot to grab a sandwich for the plane and that is where I found it, Fanta Limón. I grabbed two bottles, stuck them in our carry on and we were off to Toronto. Since we missed our connecting flight to Chicago, they automatically put us on another flight, but now we were headed to Vancouver. As we sat there we kept watching the screen push back our flight time..DELAYED. DELAYED, MOTHER FUCKING DELAYED. They blamed it on the galley and clean up crew, we would soon find out that all of the airlines were lacking all crew, including pilots and flight attendants. About an hour later we were finally making our way onto the aircraft and would be arriving in Vancouver at midnight. I searched high and low for a hotel to stay at but since we didn’t get our Covid tests the only option was The Fairmont in the international terminal and it was completely booked. So with that, we found ourselves a vending machine, bought some waters and cookies, found a row of open airport chairs and hunkered down for the night.
Airplane pillows, face masks, eye masks and a few melatonin later, we actually slept a few hours at a time. The security gates opened at 6:00 am so we made our way to our future 9:30 gate for our flight to San Diego. This is when when we lost the Fanta, sigh. We completely forgot it was in our carry on bag. The TSA agent felt bad and said that we could drink them really quick, and we told him they were for our kids. With a heavy heart, I took a picture for proof and we parted ways.
Everything was looking up after that and then….our flight to San Diego, the ONLY flight to San Diego was….Yep, cancelled.
The sole purpose of us leaving Rome to be home by the 14th was our girls 5th grade graduation. We promised them that we would be picking them up at school and all getting ready together to celebrate and we had surprise dinner reservations. That was when we realized that we wouldn’t be making it home in time to pick them up or even in time to make the graduation, if we even made it home at all. There were tears, lots of tears in the airport. Once we made our phone calls to our girls, we sat outside our future gate for a flight to San Diego and then decided, f#ck it , let’s drink. Nothing says eff it like morning booze. We made our way to the bar and had a couple of morning adult beverages.
Once we landed in San Fran, we had to walk miles from terminal to terminal to find our gate. At this point we didn’t’ get our hopes up, if the plane and crew showed up, great, if not, great. So we found our gate and grubbed some clam chowder.
After insane amount of boarding passes, we landed in San Diego at 8:30 p.m.
Can you guess what happened next? No seriously, take a wild guess.
Yep, no luggage. I mean that would be asking for too much. On top of everything, they didn’t even know where our luggage was. We had to laugh because all we thought was, thank god this wasn’t happening a day before our wedding (Sorry C and A). We finally made it home after 9:00 pm, took hot showers and were so thankful to be sleeping in our bed instead of an airport.