Fresh to Death

We had to run.  No matter how early we ever try to leave for the train it always seems like I am running for a train.   Fortunetly, we did make it just in time with some tag teaming, one person parking and one getting the tickets, but we made it on the train which was the important part.  Anyway, every seat was full, of course, so we walked down the train until we found three seats in a car.  I sat down next to what was I later figured out was two girls pre-raging for their birthday, on the 12 pm train into Manhattan.  Now, I have absolutely nothing against day drinking, and I really can nothing bad about day drinking in strange places (the weirder the better), but Budlight lime?  Really?  That's where I draw the line.  Have some class ladies. 

The Case of the 24 Hour Layover

I arrived at the Florence airport with no incident.  That morning I packed up the last of my stuff trying to make sure I would have the simplest flight home as possible, ironic I know, but that was my goal.  I had just a small carry on and a small checked in bag.  I always get little butterflies when I travel about everything that could go wrong; is my bag overweight?  Will I have trouble at security?  What about my connecting flight?  What kind of fees will I have to pay for those changes?  What if my seat mate wants to talk the whole time? So I try and come up with contingency plans before I even leave my house (Can you tell I have had traumatic flights before?).