Tuesday, October 16th

Tuesday, October 16th

I’m up early, even, and I shower, pack the last of my things, and haul my bags down to the lobby. I also turn in my safe key and my room key for the last time. Breakfast sucks, just rolls and juice, but I eat a lot lest food become scarce on the long trip home. We help the older people load their luggage under the bus. A woman wipes out on the stairs. I had almost wiped out myself on the same stairs a couple days back. She’s ok, though, and we’re on our way through pre-dawn Rome.

The streets are deserted, creepy, serial killer movie set-like. The Swiss Air check-in desk isn’t open yet, but Priest worries that we’ll face a long line, so we line up immediately and wait about forty-five minutes until the desk opens and we’re all checked in, kicking our luggage as we move closer to the counter. The departure section of the Roman airport is clean and touristy, and although Bob and I get slightly lost on our way to the gate, I manage to spend my last Euros on a diet coke and day-old USA today. The U group sits near the gate and chats as the departure time arrives and passes. I’m a bit worried about missing the Zurich connection. We finally board, about thirty minutes late, and I find myself stuck in a window seat next to an ancient Italian woman and a young black woman who I think is the old woman’s nurse because she’s speaking with her in Italian. The layover clock ticks. We aren’t guaranteed a connection, and if we miss it, another plane doesn’t leave for Chicago until the next day. I start to get paranoid about climbing over the Italian woman and running to the connection when the plane lands. Is that allowed? Luckily, when hit the runway the woman lets me pass and mutters something in Italian. Thanks, ancient Italian lady. We’re late enough to warrant Swiss Air letting us off the back of the plane, directly onto the runway, and loading us onto a bus. The wind is blowing hard and everyone’s running. Honestly, I haul ass. I’d feel badly if my colleagues missed the connection, but no way am I missing my flight out of courtesy to slower people. We’re dropped off at another gate, and we run through security and make our flight which, come to think of it, probably wouldn’t have left without us because about thirty of us from the Rome flight were scheduled for the connection. Swiss Air would have a slew of pissed Americans in the Zurich airport. That can’t be pretty.

I get an aisle seat, thank God, but every other seat in my row is taken so I can’t spread out my crap. The black woman from the earlier flight sits next to me. I ask about the Italian lady, and she says she’s not her nurse but was just chatting with her since they were sitting next to each other. The black woman is actually a musician visiting Italian friends. We chat off and on about Chicago (she lives in Rogers Park) and the olive oil she had to leave back at security. After a while the conversation ends and I try to watch some documentary on the seat television but the documentary channel doesn’t work. I watch “Ocean 13” and the latest Harry Potter movie instead. I also watch a couple episodes of “Numbers” and “Desperate Housewives” and track the flight across the ocean on the GPS closed circuit system. Fun. The flight isn’t difficult, I think, because of how relieved I am both to have made the connection and inch (on the GPS screen) closer to home.

We land in Chicago at about 3PM local time and gather our bags. The customs line isn’t long. At this point we’ve split from most of the non-U pilgrims. I’m not a hugger, so I don’t mind slipping away. I call the car service and a van arrives within thirty minutes. River’s wife picks him up at the airport, since the funeral is near Chicago, but everyone else crowds into the van for a rush-hour ride north. Traffic isn’t horrible, though, and we make decent time. The driver, sort of a white trash know it all, will not stop talking. He talks about crops and farming to no one in particular. I feel badly for Ivan in the front seat, trying to sleep (remember, we’ve been up for a long time), and luckily Gladys distracts the driver with her conversation long enough for Ivan to fade out. Dusk has fallen by the time we reach the U. The evening classes are in full swing, the hallways deserted. I stash my things in my office and hit the familiar and crystal clean U bathroom. Then I grab a diet coke, hit Taco Bell, and drive home. M, T, and S are out at T’s football game, but N and a babysitter are at home, upstairs. Shadow and I see each other for the first time after the longest stretch apart in twelve years. I lay out all the presents, sit on the couch, and wait for my family to notice I’m home.