Many people know that traveling can be very stressful and chaotic. Usually, I am an ultimate planner, so I can avoid the rush and the stress of making flights, travel time to the airport, or being late for anything. It is just in my nature to be one of those travelers who would rather wait hours before my flight in an airport than the chance of missing it altogether.
My trip to Milan, Italy, was something I had never experienced before...
In 2018, I was fortunate enough to have parents who gifted me a trip to Italy for my college graduation. With that said, this was also a family vacation, but I did have two weeks of travel alone before my family joined me in Florence and continued to explore the southern part of Italy with me. I was super excited and nervous all at once. I did not know how to feel. That was the first time I was going to a foreign country all alone and did not have a study abroad program to fall back on. All responsibility was put on me to make sure this trip went smoothly and that no problems would occur.
The first thing that made this specific travel experience awful was that I got super sick right before I was supposed to fly out. I was not just sick. I became incredibly ill. I am talking maybe two days before I was supposed to fly. That was pre-COVID times, so traveling while having a cough was not the biggest concern. Overall, I get respiratory issues very frequently due to my asthma, so having a raspy cough is a bit of the norm for me. The night before my mom was supposed to drive me to Boston, Massachusetts, for my flight, I was sitting in the freezing night air on my front stoop, trying to use the cold to be able to breathe. My mom was pitching that I go to the ER, but I knew that if that happened, then there would have been no way I was going to make it to Milan. Nothing would come between me and this trip. I have always wanted to see the world, and this was my chance. I was not going to sacrifice months of planning and excitement for something that happens to me quite frequently.
To get to Logan International Airport in Boston, from Vermont, it was going to take a three-hour drive. My Boston flight was pretty early in the morning, and my mother was not able to take me the whole way. The plan was to drive to Lebanon, New Hampshire, and have me take the Dartmouth Coach (a bus that people can take to the airport) the rest of the way. Coming from the countryside and the rolling green mountains of Vermont, I did not need to take a coach bus for anything before. I did not know how the process worked at the time. The anxiety of how to navigate the Dartmouth Coach for the first time filled up inside me as I chugged medicine so I could tough it out and make it to Boston.
After spending the entire two-hour bus ride, trying not to cough to attract attention, I arrived at Logan International Airport safely. I was a bit bus sick, but I knew I would shake that off as soon as I got walking around. My energy levels were at an all-time low at this point due to sickness and not getting any sleep the night prior. I had a connecting flight in New York City, so I knew the flight from Boston to NYC would be a short 45-minute flight, and I was thankful for this. I was slowly making my way step by step to my final destination, and nothing had gone too seriously wrong.
After landing at JFK International Airport, I had most of the day to kill. My flight to Milan was later in the evening, and I had to spend almost a full day at the airport. Since the layover time was so long, my luggage was to go to the baggage claim, and then I would have to recheck it for my flight later that day. That was bothersome, but no big deal for me. I grabbed my bags and started to look around the lobby for a place to sit. Unfortunately, at JFK, they do not like benches for some reason, because I could not even find one. I am not saying there were not any open. I am saying there were not any at all! I found a pillar with an outlet, and plopped myself right down and started streaming Netflix for the next few hours.
I few hours ticked by, and I am starting to feel even sicker. My coughing gets worse, and the exhaustion commenced. I was still sitting in the lobby of JFK, and I nodded off a bit. I knew I needed to stay awake because I was stressed and paranoid about checking back in again. Everything all at once hit me, the exhaustion, the stress, the anxiety, and overall I am still feeling ill. I became irritable and kept having to pace up and down the lobby to have the time pass faster. Eventually, it was three hours before my flight, and I was able to check in again. I threw my bags over to the airline and was relieved I did not have to think about them again until I reached my final destination.
Since I still had three hours until my flight boarded, I did what any 22-year-old would do. I went to the closest bar. Now, I know what you all are thinking. Why in the world would I want to drink if I felt so sick? Honestly, I thought it was necessary to calm my nerves more and maybe even sleep on the plane. At least then, I would not feel as sick as I did awake. I made sure the medicine I took earlier had worn off completely, then I ordered my first beer.
I was eating dinner, and a few tall beers later, I was about to leave when a man sat next to me at the bar. He looked kind of familiar, but in my buzzed state of mind, I could not put it together. He started talking to me pretty friendly-like. I had the thought, “ugh, why is some 50 year-oldish guy hitting on me?” I entertained him for a few more minutes, intending to say goodbye and be on my way, but then he offered to buy me another beer. I accepted because what 22-year-old says no to a free drink? He kept exchanging conversation with me until the bartender laughed and stated, “Hey! You are like a famous actor or something, right?” He said this with a grin on his face, and the mysterious man knew his name, so I knew they were friends or at least previously acquainted beforehand. I thought he looked familiar when I had first seen him, but I could not for the life of me think of his name. Knowing I needed to take a photo and send it to my family to help me recognize who I was talking to, I tried to sneak a picture to send. Due to my drunken state, I snapped the most obvious photo of him. I was leaning way back, thinking I was sly, but now clear-minded, I know how stupid I must have looked. My family ended up being no help identifying the stranger anyway, so I embarrassed myself for nothing. As the delayed shame of obviously taking a photo hit me, so did the name I had been searching for. David Spade. The comedian I grew up knowing about! Joe Dirt! How could I not have known? Embarrassed and ashamed I had been talking to this man for the past hour with no idea who he was, I quickly settled the bill and scampered away. I legit grabbed my suitcase and backpack and bolted as fast as possible. I did not even say goodbye. I just left. Now on top of physically feeling terrible, I felt emotionally horrified as well.
While boarding my plane to Milan, I noticed that I was one of the only United States citizens boarding this flight. I started to get anxious because everyone around me was speaking Italian, and I had no idea what anyone was saying. Reality started to hit me that this situation could be what it was like in Milan. How was I going to order food? Or ask for directions? What happens if I needed to use the restroom while out and about in the city, and no one could tell me where it was? These questions, seem silly, were what was racing through my mind. As the stress and anxiety rose within me, so did my cough. It seemed to be getting worse.
On the flight to Milan, I wanted to make sure no one knew I was sick. I have what it seemed to be irrational (which I guess nowadays is more rational) fear that people will think I have some deadly disease that could infect them all. I always imagined the CDC showing up at my gate and carting me away somewhere just for them to confirm that it was the common cold and not some deadly disease. If I had been somewhere where getting a dangerous infection was probable, of course, I would have worried that it would have been harmful to others. Due to this fear, I spend the entire flight containing my coughing. I had a cough that was constant and disgusting sounding. My chest started to tighten and hurt from the compression, and the last thing I wanted was to attract attention to myself. I hate grabbing attention due to being annoying, so that was another factor I played into suppressing my cough. The flight was not short either, it was about six hours long. I was in hell. My own, personal, constructed hell. I tried to sleep to help with the pain in my chest, but I never can sleep on flights, so I sat there in silence, wishing to be in Milan already.
When I finally landed in Milan, it was midday their time, but past my bedtime. I was so exhausted I did not know how I was going to make it to my Airbnb. I thought about taking the metro, bus, Uber, or taxi. None of which seemed appealing to me since I was about to collapse and cough up mucus. I originally wanted to use the half-day to explore, but with being so sick and being so mentally and physically exhausted, I knew the best thing to do would be to rest and try to feel better. I ended up going with taking a taxi to get to the Airbnb quickest, but also because it was the first thing of transportation I saw. As soon as I checked in, I went immediately to the bed, lay down, and fell right to sleep.
I do not know how long I was asleep, but I had woken up to the bright sun and my inner confusion. I had thought I had slept for a few hours, but I ended up sleeping more like 18 hours. For me, 18 hours of sleep is a lot. I usually get anywhere from 6-8 hours a night. That was almost double. I could not believe I had survived the hell of transporting myself to Milan under the conditions I had been in. I was hoping it did not set a tone for the entire trip to Italy. I spent my first full day in Italy resting and ordering Uber Eats for meals. I did not leave my Airbnb once that first day. I knew that if I were to survive the rest of this trip, I would need my rest and energy. Luckily, the next morning when I woke up, I felt refreshed and ready to explore the foreign city.
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