It’s time to head to JFK and brave the hordes.   

Hello and welcome to our Christmas in Sicily trip.  Tonight we fly to Rome, transfer planes, fly to Catania, and then drive to Taormina, arriving sometime in the afternoon of the 23rd. Maybe.  We have 75 minutes to make our connection in Rome.  Alitalia assured me it’s possible, which I suspect is true under perfect conditions but not entirely the point.  We may end up spending a night in Rome.  This situation feels so Italian – hope as an operating principle so as to not need an alternate, more reality-based plan.  Is this why the the Italian economy and Alitalia are essentially bankrupt?  I mean, it’s possible Italians could pay their taxes.  It’s just not very likely.  It’s possible our flight from JFK will leave on time and we’ll make our connection.  It’s just not very likely.  

We have a guest with us, Megan.  She’s followed along on many past trips.  Now she’ll be in the thick of it, instead of reading about our adventures from afar.  Megan is Rebeca’s first cousin once removed.  (I had to look up a cousin flowchart on Google to say this with any confidence.) 

From afar I’ve watched Megan grow up.  When I started hanging around with RBD, Megan was barely verbal.  That felt like roughly seven months ago.  Today she’s about to graduate high school and was just accepted at Virginia Tech in the Fall.  (So, obviously, a very full seven months.)  My mom always says watching kids grow makes you acutely aware of time passing, unlike anything else.  Without the periodic visits to see Megan, and her brother Owen, during major national holidays, I might still successfully convince myself I’m the kid in this equation.  I mean, I still feel like a kid. Instead, in another seven months she’ll be approaching 40 and I’ll be well into retirement.    

Sorry, I get like this when I have to go to JFK and go via mass transit.  RBD wanted to give Megan the full New York Experience, complete with hauling luggage on subways and trains.  I suggested this hazing was unnecessary, as Megan has already negotiated LaGuardia Airport — perhaps the worst major airport in the U.S. if not the world —  by herself when she flew in last night.  My argument did not prevail.  To be fair, it seldom does.

I’m 4 G&T’s in, and it’s time to board.  Never fly completely sober.

We’ll meet again on the other side of The Atlantic.