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The Half-Way Mark

Studious
After imprinting copious notes about Socrates and the Sophists, my frazzled brain had enough of the library and pleaded for a mental break. Quarter ’till midnight, the young people of Florence moseyed to the bars. As I skipped my apartment to avoid extra reviewing and to soak up the crisp autumn air, I ran into my friends. Already a few bottles in, they invited me to have a beer.
Or two.
Or three.
(What do we consider a Dragoon these days?)
I planned on staying up late regardless. Knowing that I would accomplish nothing productive back at the apartment with Kenzie and Liz, I figured socializing at Kikuya would be a sensible alternative.
With three hours of sleep, I woke up early to read over my notes one last time for my 9AM Philosophy midterm. You know what? I aced that sucker.
All riled up, I spent an hour at the gym before cramming any last Italian phrases for my 1:30 midterm. In reality, I checked emails and Facebook for two hours daydreaming about seeing my parents the following day.

Miscommunication
Traveling alone builds responsibility and independence. It also teaches people how to hold back tears and cursing outbursts. My mom had emailed me the name and phone number of the hotel for my overnight layover in Barcelona. Only a few days before this flight, she forwarded the confirmation email from Cheap-O-Air concerning my trip details. However, the hotels did not match up. I neglected to realize this vital piece of information until I landed in Spain. My parents were somewhere over the Atlantic and my dinky Italian phone failed to work as usual.
There I was, stuck in Spain, unsure of where I would end up for the night. Trusting my always-organized mother, I shuttled to her suggested hotel.
*Try Again*
Running on little sleep, frustrated with the situation, and with little cash in my pocket, it took every ounce of energy to be polite to the staff at the wrong hotel. Between yawns and nervous facial expressions, I managed to communicate with the Spanish concierge to figure out a way to check me into my correct accommodation. By the time I reached my appropriate bedroom, I realized my toiletries and pajamas were in my checked luggage on their way to Germany.
Travel Tip: Always carry a toothbrush.
I freshened my mouth, stripped off my clothes and crawled into an empty kingsized bed. I had endured an exhausting 24 hours, but my parents were just a good night’s sleep away.

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2 comments

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