Be aware of the contact between your feet and the earth.

― Thich Nhat Hanh

Tuesday was a long day and not one I really want to repeat. I don’t want to go into great detail, but suffice to say my Tampa-JFK flight changed, and I had to fly to LaGuardia and transfer to JFK. Because I had 10 hours between the time I landed and time of the next flight, I wasn’t concerned about not being on time. My biggest worries were having to wake up at 4 am to make the first flight and having to transfer my own luggage between airports.

Everything went well with the first flight. We actually landed early, and as luck would have it, the driver was already at the airport as he had been watching our arrival. By the time I got from the arrival gate to baggage, my suitcase was waiting, and I stepped out to look for Mustafa.

I breezed through the airport doors, and a blast of cold wind hit me in the face. When I left St. Pete, the temperature was in the high 60s, but in New York, it was 35 degrees. HOLY CRAP, I thought as I did a U-turn back into baggage claim. (To be honest, I was not expecting that cold at all, so what I thought was really a little stronger than that. But, to keep this PC, I’ll leave my actual comment to your imagination.) I pulled a jacket out of my checked bag and headed back out to find Mustafa.

Depending on which way you drive from LaGuardia to JFK, it can be about 10-15 miles and take you 20-30 minutes. Mustafa used his GPS to guide him between the airports, which I found odd since I figured he drove the route a lot.

“Do you often drive people from one airport to the other?” I asked him.

“A couple of times a day,” he answered. I rolled my eyes.

In the end, because of all of the work the city is doing to Grand Central Parkway, it took us about 40 minutes. I actually breezed through check-in, and I spent the next nine or so hours in the Greenwich Lounge. As you would expect, I had to listen to whining from the boys because all I ate was a salad and soup. They did brighten up around 4:00 when I ordered a French 75 (Many thanks to my good friend Tracy Branham Breihof  for introducing them to me in Stresa!).

[Off topic, in a way: I have to insert here that I have Platinum Pro status with American, so I have some good benefits. People ask me all the time why I am loyal to American, and this is one of the reasons. PP members on international flights have access to lounges during international flights. That alone is worth it for me.)

At any rate, no use boring you with the details of my hours at JFK…or on the flight. (I will add that once we left the gate (10 minutes early!), we taxied to the runway only to be caught up in a long line of planes waiting to take off. We ended up airbound at 8:12, an hour and 10 minutes past our actual departure time.)

The wind gods were on our side, I think, and we landed in Milano a few minutes before our actual arrival time. (Humph. You and I both know they pad those times so they aren’t late when something like this happens.) I looked out of the window and was a bit upset that we had stopped in the great airplane parking lot at Malpensa. In case you have never flown to Europe, be aware that many airports—Milan Malpensa, Bologna, Frankfort, Madrid, Munich, and others—load and unload passengers on tarmacs. I remember getting off of one flight in Frankfort and getting to the actual terminal about 25 minutes later. I think we had actually parked in Austria.

The lady in front of me hesitated when she got to the top of the stairs. “Do I go down there to the bus?” she asked. My eyes rolled so far back in my head I could see my brain. “Yes, of course,” the flight attendant replied. The lady moved, and I followed a few steps behind her as I was afraid I might lose grip on my carry-on and have it knock her down the stairs. When we reached the bottom, I sighed in relief and took two steps.

The next thing I knew, I was airborne. “OH, CRAP (again, that’s not exactly what came out)!” I screamed. I heard gasps behind me and a thunk as I hit the ground—knees, wrist, shoulder, and head. My glasses and passport shot across the tarmac, and I saw arms and hands reaching for me.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” I wheezed. “I’m more embarrassed than anything.” Someone handed me my glasses, and another pulled me to my feet. A third man placed my passport back in my hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. I nodded as I was shaking from the collision. He helped me to the bus, and someone let me sit for the 10-minute drive to the terminal.

Suffice to say that by the time I made it to Brescia, I had stopped shaking. The hotel where I’ll be for a few nights, Areadocks Boutique Hotel, is lovely. The boys heard the woman at reception tell me about the spa, and the jumped on it immediately. I didn’t. Since I was sore and tired, after a long hot shower, I fell on the bed and barely moved until this morning.

I still have no idea what happened. I may have tripped over my carry-on, or someone else’s bag may have hit my right foot at the wrong angle. I may have been dizzy from lack of sleep, or I may have stepped on a crack in the tarmac. I won’t ever know, but the good thing is that, except for a few bumps and scrapes, I’m okay.

While I started off slow after waking up this morning, I’m ready to hit Brescia and Desenzano at a brisker pace tomorrow. I’m excited to introduce you to two new cities.