This is the "blog" portion of my website.

5/12/25
I want to tell you about the time I was stranded in Rome.

Let's go back to 2017. I was a junior in high school. I was also a tumblr user (still am). At the time, I started seeing all sorts of posts from the Furby fandom! Yes, it exists. I never had one growing up, but I was intrigued by the little guys. Eventually I came across someone selling some of their collection and decided to treat myself to my first Furby. I was impressed by the massive collections I saw, and I can understand why anything might become a collector's item, but I figured I'd be happy with just one. (I now have a Furby tattoo, Furby themed car, and almost fifty Furbies.) It wasn't until my senior year that I got a second Furby, and then a third, and a fourth... By the time I graduated, I was known as that creepy undiagnosed autistic kid who really liked Furbies.

Most of my senior-year teachers were aware of this, and their reactions ranged from mildly bemused to polite enough to keep their thoughts to themselves. My Latin teacher was one of the former. Near the end of the year, he told me that he was organizing a trip to Italy for the Latin Club, and alumni, friends, family, etc. were all welcome. I graduated in 2019; the trip was planned for the summer of 2020. Obviously, it did not happen: fortunately, I hadn't heard any updates about the trip since that conversation, so I shrugged it off and forgot about it until March 2023.

We're aware that there's a major overlap between classics students and tumblr users, right? Regardless of the overlap, there is one major event for which both groups share an electrifying passion: The Ides of March. In class, we had parties and played fun games like "pin the knife on Caesar". Online, we shared meme after meme about our overwhelmingly leftist stances on tyranny. Since I couldn't exactly drop in to make an appearance during homeroom, I had to keep my celebrations online. I took a look at my Furby collection, upwards of 30 at the time, and figured I might as well stage a photo of them reenacting that fateful day. I placed all but one of them in a circle, and the last one face-down in the middle. I expertly photoshopped a transparent PNG of the knife emoji on each assailant and painted a little blood puddle underneath our honorary Caesar. It sadly flopped on tumblr, but that's less important.

I couldn't help but wonder how my old Latin Club would be celebrating now that the pandemic was allegedly "over". I thought about my teacher and wondered how he fared through the pandemic. I wondered if he would like my little tribute. I wondered if his school email was still the same. So, for the first time in nearly four years, I emailed my Latin teacher to show him a Furby meme. And he responded! We emailed back and forth for a bit, and he mentioned how excited he was for that Italy trip which was finally happening. I emailed back, wondering if the trip was still open to alumni...

And that's the story of how my Furbies got me to travel outside of the U.S. for the first time in my life. I told you that story so I could tell you about how I got stranded in Rome.

While the entire trip would be done as a group with a tour guide (shoutout to Karen, an absolute queen), we did have the option to fly on our own. My parents had had a United credit card that racks up reward miles for over twenty years, as there was a period where we were frequently traveling between California and Virginia. We moved to Virginia in 2003, visited California once in '05 or '06... and did not set foot in an airport for the next nineteen years. I got to fly to Italy and back for free thanks to the SEVERAL MILLION MILES they had racked up. So, yeah, I absolutely decided to save money and fly separately.

I believe I was the only one who ended up flying separately, so my teacher suggested booking a flight before the rest of the group. That way, if my flight was delayed, the rest of the group wouldn't have to wait around for one person. I got my tickets and booked a room in a small hotel close to the airport so I could go right back and meet the group the next morning. The flight was unremarkable; I won't bore you with the details. (I will give this word of advice: maybe don't let your first flight in 20 years be an eight hour overseas flight. Just a friendly suggestion!)

So, there I was! In Rome's Fiumicino airport! Cool! Getting my luggage and finding a taxi was a breeze. I had a handwritten list of nifty Italian travel phrases on hand at all times; fortunately, a large number of the people in Rome were at least conversational in English. I finally reach my destination, the Kalaso Design Guest House. There were only four rooms (I was assigned to #4), and to get into your room, you had to punch a code into a little safe box on the wall. The code worked, and the box holding the key for room #4 popped open... it was empty.

Okay. Don't panic. Maybe it's being cleaned? Maybe just a mistake? I go back out to the main building to find the front desk. It's locked, and no one is in there. Okay. It's fine. Don't panic. I go back to the room. I almost knock... and then I hear the TV. Someone else is in there. They double-booked my room. What the fuck? My hands are shaking, my mind is racing, but I'm being SO calm and collected and professional right now. I go back to the reservation email. Is there something I missed? Maybe I was actually supposed to be in another room, but they gave me the wrong code, or...

...

...Yesterday. We booked it for YESTERDAY.

Before this point, I had texted the owner (this number was provided with the reservation) asking for assistance. I felt like a huge ass by the time she got there. She was very nice, but the hotel was booked. Nothing she could do. Okay! That's fine! That's okay! I'm still totally calm! I decide to seek guidance from my lord and savior, Google maps, and find another hotel nearby. I pull up the nifty taxi app my brother had told me about (oh, wait, did I mention that my brother had left the country for the first time in his life about two weeks earlier to go to Italy on a completely unrelated school trip at the exact same time?) to get to said hotel. All good! Okay! We're fine! The taxi drops me off on some completely random residential street with no hotel in sight. So there I am, a dumbass tourist with all of my luggage, completely stranded on some random street in Rome. The two older men eating at a small table outside of a grocery store keep giving me funny looks.

In moments of uncertainty, we often turn to faith. The lord answered from within my favorite app and told me that the hotel was just on the other side of the street. Jesus Christ. Thank you. Oh my god.

I accidentally walked past it two or three times, but I figured it out eventually. I walk inside the lovely Seccy Hotel/Art Museum and realize that I didn't actually check to see if they had any availability. Fuck me sideways. I timidly step up and address the young woman (oh no, she's hot) and the front desk. "Parla englese?" I probably looked like I was about to cry. She does the wavy motion with her hand and says "eh". Good enough! Her English was much better than she thought, I think, and I managed to get a room for myself. Thank GOD. Thank FUCK. Holy SHIT.

It's around 5 PM in Rome, and I'm starving. The hotel didn't serve dinner, but I happily pulled a prayer out of my pocket and found my way toward a restaurant. I pointed at a burger on the menu and asked if I could have that. The waitress just said "no". Ok. No worries. I pointed to a group across from me eating a sort of appetizer tray with bread and cheese and asked if I could have that. And I did! And it was good! Dinner was done, but damn, I REALLY needed a sweet little treat. Christ himself guided me to a grocery store nearby and I grabbed a bag of chocolate cookies. By the way, there was a whole marlin head just sitting there in the seafood section. Super cool. Anyway, I get in line at the register, and the man with a full cart lets me go in front of him. I love you, sir.

Apparently the stock Italian niceties I had taught myself were convincing, because the cashier rattled off something I couldn't understand in rapid Italian. She then got a good look at me and noticed the sad, pathetic, sopping-wet little deer in the headlights and pointed at the card reader. Outed as a tourist! I paid, and she smiled and said "Thank you" slowly and clearly. I panicked, said "grazie", and left.

When I had first arrived at the hotel, I noticed a cat hanging around under some bushes. I might be stupid enough to get myself stranded in a foreign country, but I'm not stupid enough to try and pet what could be a feral animal. It kept an eye on me, but didn't approach. However, as I came back with my bag of cookies, this judgemental little guy was suddenly my best friend in the world and was SO complimentary and cuddly and just sooo fascinated by that funny little paper bag I was carrying! Alas, it was chocolate, so I had to be rude and not share.

It was between 6 and 7 PM in Rome at the time, or just after noon back at home, and I promptly fell into bed and slept harder than I had ever slept in my life. And that was just day 0! The rest of the trip went off without a hitch and was an absolutely incredible experience. I did end up bringing COVID home as one of my souvenirs, which fucking sucked, but I have no other complaints.