Tears for a fourth time?

No way, but it came pretty darn close. I woke up on Sunday at eight o'clock so I would have time to shower, eat breakfast (If I had breakfast food) and relax a bit before taking the train to pick up Jessica. I laid in bed for twenty minutes with my computer, catching up on emails when I noticed my laptop said it was ten thirty. That's weird. And that's when I grew some braincells. My phone, which needed no updating because it was on London time, was actually two hours behind roman time at this point. London is an hour behind Rome, and daylight savings time skips ahead an hour. Oh no. Jessica's flight was now landing in the airport, and it's a thirty minute train ride, that only leaves twice an hour. I rushed out of the apartment, in my sleep shirt and jeans i threw on. I managed to catch the ten forty five train to the airport and was an absolute mess all the way there. I didn't know how long these girls would wait for me, and I assumed since I had only offered to pick them up at the airport yesterday that they had a back up plan; at least that's what I was hoping. I made it to the airport and dashed to find terminal two. This was different from the one Stu had flown into (which is the biggest arrivals terminal). I found terminal two after many escalator rides and walks through lengthy sky walks. Terminal two is tiny, and has no arrivals section. I searched around in hopes that my initial scan had missed them; no such luck, they were definitely not here. I didn't know if they had left the airport, or if the terminal two arrivals was located somewhere else. I immediately went to terminal three, where stu arrived and searched through the people their. I circled it two or three times as there were plenty of people milling around I could have missed them the first time. I checked the arrivals board and they were all terminal three arrivals. I didn't even know where they were flying from, so I had no idea how to find out where they were, if they had waited for me in the first place. I looped back through the train station to check for them there before doing a second check of terminal two. I then found terminal one which is arrivals, but they weren't there either. I repeated this process a few times, with checks around the taxi's buses and just outside the airport doors, hoping desperately that they weren't lost. I felt so incredibly guilty for being late. Rome is not an easy city to navigate, and if they were lost trying to find their hostel I would have felt absolutely terrible. I didn't know if Jessica had a phone, and if even if she did I didn't have her number, and even if I did I had left my phone on my bed in my mad dash out the door. After nearly two hours of combing the airport with no luck I accepted defeat and headed for the train station. My plan was to call my mother and ask her to call Jessica's mother to see if she had a cell phone (or if one of her friends did) that I could reach her at. As I was walking through the train station I saw Jessica running toward me. Thank God! I was so relieved. Apparently they had given me the wrong terminal number, and had been searching for me, they didn't even know I was an hour late to pick them up. These revelations made both of us feel much less guilty, and really we were just so relieved to see each other. I told them there was no need to buy train tickets, which was what they were in line to do. We boarded the train to my neighborhood, and Jessica and I caught up while her friends slept. We had to stop at my apartment to look up directions to their hostel, but we were soon on our way. The girls were pretty exhausted so they opted to stay in for the night and we planned to meet up on Monday night for dinner and a walk around some of the sights. Once I was back home it was two or three in the afternoon. I had a ten page opera critique to write f0r Wednesday, but I didn't feel like doing it, so I didn't. I spent the rest of the day relaxing once again, and doing a whole lot of nothing. I don't remember eating on Sunday, but I must have found something. By eleven that night I was minorly concerned by the fact that Becca hadn't returned from her trip to Spain. Just as I was about to write on her facebook wall ( the only form of communication we have, and really good for nothing) she walked in the door and we immediately caught up on our roomie time, sharing stories of our breaks before falling asleep early in the morning.