For spring break, our group was pretty meticulous—honestly, we were downright anal. We had multiple planning meetings lasting no less than two hours each. Books detailing what we should and should not see, and how to get there. And comprehensive spreadsheet outlining every dime and every minute we planned to spend. Honestly, the Travel Channel had nothing on our group.
Then the message came: “Dear Sir or Madam:/We regret to inform you that your flight destined…has been cancelled due to the ongoing…” Words cannot describe how disheartening a letter like that can be when a person is several hundred miles away from their already temporary home. What does a person do? Where does he or she go?
My worry wasn’t that we wouldn’t have something to do—we were in Rome after all. My worry was that we would have nowhere to go. The hostel we were staying at was already booked through the week, and the websites listing other hostels in our area weren’t much more promising. Not to mention, the newspapers and talk radio were doing nothing to improve my optimism.
So…what does a person do when all the airports are closed and all of the train tickets have suddenly skyrocketed? Well, they find the nearest beach, of course, buy a few bottles of vodka and hope it will all be over in a few days.
When they are hungry, they eat…when they are thirsty, they drink…when they are tired, they sleep, and they realize very quickly that life goes on. I may never see the Eiffel Tower or Abbey Road, but I would also never give up our few sleeps at the beach. It is a sunset, a symphony. It is that which makes life interesting.
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