August 14

I closed my eyes on the plane at 5:30p.m. (Chicago time; 6:30 East Coast style; 12:30 Roma flava) and didn't open them again until 9:00 p.m.(I couldn't even begin to translate that time for you) It was at that point that my i-pod slipped from my grasp and bounced off my eye mask, giant neck pillow, blanket and possibly even my don't-leave-home-without-'em fuzzy socks. I took off my handful of cocktail rings to blindly slide my hand between the seat and the armrest of the plane in search of said i-pod, thus losing all the rings that were piled upon my lap. I had neither contacts nor glasses on, so I truly couldn't see. All of my scrabbling awoke Duke, who was kind enough to use the flashlight app on his i-phone while I poked around under the seat and tried not to hit the feet of the man snoring behind me. I-pod was found. One ring was found. One ring was missing.

Back to sleep (I know,I know who would have thought a wee bit of an obsessive such as I could sleep when one of my rings was MIA?) and awoke again at 8:30 am Rome time, just as the breakfast cart was making its way down the aisle. I gulped down weak coffee and OJ. I had slept through dinner and my ever-loving Duke had saved me his brownie for several hours before giving in and eating it himself. Why he felt he should share this with me was anyone's guess.

As we were waiting to deboard the plane, Duke tore my airline seat apart with the zeal of one who was looking for that seat cushion floatation device. And damned if he didn't find my other ring. Yes he did. And that's why he rocks.

Our wonderfulest, beautiful Italian friend was waiting patiently for us at the airport, dressed appropriately for the 90 degree weather in long pants, a long sleeve shirt and a scarf. Should anyone need proof as to our Italian pal's level of awesomeness: he was fine to sit in the airport cafeteria while we shoveled in proper Italian espresso(oh my good Lord it tasted goooood) and pastries. He refrained from having any as, "It tastes like shit, man. It's airport food." But I know that I would be reluctant to hang out at all in an airport waiting for people to eat that grossy food in that grossy atmosphere. But he did it for us. That's what you call a good friend.