Backpacking Bohemian

I try to hold in my squeals as I step off the plane and into the terminal. I feel the need to jump around in excitement. Though everyone around me seems relatively calm, as if they travel internationally all the time. They probably do; they’re all wearing suits and carrying laptops and briefcases; probably businessmen. So I stand in the long narrow dimly lit hanger that leads from the plane and opens to the terminal and plaster on a look like everyone else seems to be doing—semi-unimpressed and ‘business serious.’
It doesn’t really work. When I try to look serious, I end up looking slightly confused or constipated.
I remember when we first planned the trip. A small group of us that have been friends since grammar school would spend three months just traveling through Europe. No group tours or fancy hotels, or even a structured plan of what we were going to do. I’ve never been outside the country, or that far out of and I though I didn’t want to over prepare or get my hopes up. So of course I did.
I spent months looking up everything about the countries we agreed to go to. I bought a dozen phrasebooks and tried to cram as many languages in my brain as possible. I even rented any movie I knew was filmed or set overseas. Though I must admit that the movie thing didn’t work out very well. I only made it through Amelie, Northanger Abbey, Roman Holiday, Russian Dolls and Schindler’s List.
My mind starts to become hazy as I let myself imagine what this trip is going to be like. I do this a lot. Randomly go into fantasies of what can happen to me on any given day. I can’t even think of how many times I’ve missed my train stop or zoned out and missed an entire lecture because I was daydreaming. Usually it was about me escaping or being taken away by a handsome leading man you only read about in Regency novels.
My friends went ahead of me since I had finals. I was the only one still in school. Alexis and Mark already graduated. Victoria went to a two year college. And Brian didn’t bother going. Usually I get worried when the plans turn into me meeting them somewhere. They have a tendency to forget about me or leave me behind. Not deliberately. It just happens. But this was a going to be a perfect trip.
Jacob, whose standing behind me, clears his throat loudly.
“You’re blocking the exit.” He smiles at me as a small group of tourists behind him are giving me annoyed and dirty looks. Some sigh loudly as other angrily tap their feet in anticipation for me to move. Their clothes wrinkled and hair askew, they all seem drained from the fourteen hour flight. But I’m not for some reason. Even though I didn’t get any sleep, I feel as if I could run a triathlon—well, not really, I hate exercise. Alexis hated that I never exercised yet I’m still thin. I always blamed my short height, but she still scoffs at me whenever I eat in front of her.
“Sorry!” I give them all an open smile and take a large step to the side to let them pass. They practically run out of the hanger and towards the baggage claim. Jacob moves to stand next to me.
I sat next to Jacob on the flight when I switched in New York. He’s taller than me, which probably isn’t saying much since everyone’s taller than me. He has that skinny, or rather, wirily, shape to him, which he said comes with being English. Or did he say Scottish? Now I feel horrible for forgetting.
“Someone’s excited.” Jacob leans in to me to talk over the loud buzzing commotion in the terminal. Scottish. Definitely Scottish. In the florescent lighting his light blue eyes seem brighter than I remember them being on the plane. They stand out against his brown hair which is messier than it was on the plane; as if he just woke up from a long nap. Which he did.
I can never figure out how people can sleep on planes. I never can. The chairs are too stiff and even when the seat’s back I can’t get comfortable. I worry about my chair bothering the person behind me, which then makes me wonder if someone will watch me as I’m sleeping. Plus I was too jittery to get to Europe that I didn’t even want to stay in my seat. If I could I would have danced up and down the isles. But I didn’t. I ended up watching Jacob sleep. Using his shoulder as a pillow, he breathed through his mouth but thankfully he wasn’t a snorer; though he did drool slightly on his shoulder. It was actually cute—in an odd quirky kind of way.
“It’s so…I don’t know! You know?” I can’t figure out how to put my giddiness into words. So I let out a relieved sigh.
Jacob laughs and starts to follow the crowd towards the signs that said ‘reclamo del bagaglio’ with the English translation for baggage claim under it in smaller letters.
I wanted to stop and admire the airport. I’ve seen airports before of course. This one was one large circular structure made completely of glass and steel. It was more modern than I thought it would be. I have to squint as the sun spills through the glass without any shade. I got a glimpse of the buildings off in the distance outside. Brick buildings mixed in with old ruins. Though I can’t see them clearly, I can just make out the hills covered in little towns off in the distance shaded by clouds. I feel my feet do a little hop-jump in anticipation. Thankfully, no one sees this.
It’s easy to tell the locals from the tourists. I’ve been teased a few times that I probably have Italian blood but now I see how far off that was. They have dark and silky hair that flows smoothly around their necks and shoulders. Mine has more red in it and has never looked as perfect; I’m even jealous of the men’s hair. They’re tall; not the awkward model height tallness, but proportioned in all the right places. I can see now why women in movies always fall for the Italian man despite his obvious annoying playboy qualities. A couple of men look over and smile at me in unison and I feel my face flush a bright red that mixes embarrassingly well with my freckles.
The tourists all stand in groups and argue in whispers to each other. They don’t want anyone around them to know they’re lost but they’re waving their arms angrily in a way that’s just screaming for them to be stared at. I now feel underdressed in my worn out jeans and bright pink t-shirt. Everyone around me, despite looking exausted from their flight, appear to have changed into their best outfits. Perfectly fitted suits on the businessmen and even my fellow tourists are in their brand new crisp pants and designer jackets. I look over and feel relieved to see Jacob casually dressed in jeans and a slightly loose fitted navy and white striped polo.
When we reach the baggage claim I turn a few times for any sign of my friends. My heart starts racing as I keep spinning in circles trying to find them among the crowd. The spinning is making me dizzy. The only people I recognize are the few I remember from my flight.
No sign of any of them. Not Alexis’s nearly blinding blonde hair, or Mark’s ridiculously tall and thin body. I don’t hear Victoria’s loud laughter or Brian’s low gruff voice that can carry for miles.
Whatever I do, I can’t panic. I keep trying to tell myself this.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. The little voice in my mind is making me panic even more.
I’m in a foreign country with no friends and no way to get home for three months. How can I not panic? If anything, I’m surprised I’m not screaming and crying and causing a giant scene in the middle of the airport.
Breathe. Just take a few deep breathes, pull yourself together and figure out what to do. The voice is sounding more frantic. I can hear my brain hyperventilating. But why? I only just got here. Just because my friends have forgotten about me on a few other occasions, doesn’t mean that’s what happened here.
Just don’t panic!
The loud buzz howling from the baggage claim makes me jump. A long line of black rolling suitcases starts to slowly roll out. Tourists start frantically checking every bag that passes them. I recognize my large bright red duffle among the sea of black rolling suitcases.
When it gets closer to me I attempt to pull it off the turnstile. Yanking hard at the handle and letting out a small grunt in pain, it won’t move. I let go and start to weave around people; following my duffle as it keeps rolling out of my sight down the winding baggage conveyer belt. They don’t want to move or give me any leeway to easily squeeze past them; as if they think if they did scoot out of my way, they would miss their own bag.
I wonder what happens when it reaches the end of the line. Does it keep going back around in circles for hours until there’s no one around? What if I only have this one turn to grab my bag? Then I’ll be stranded with nothing but what’s on me right now; which is my passport, a few dollars, a camera, an OK Magazine and a half eaten bag of Swedish Fish candy.
I jog around an elderly couple to try and head off my bag. I can’t get around them, but Jacob easily maneuver’s past them and slides it off the rolling platform and on the ground by my feet. He then turns back and grabs his own dark green duffle.
Trying to tug on the handle of my bag, it feels five times heavier as when I checked it in. I don’t think I though this backpacking thing through. I didn’t realize the backpack I would have to lug all over Europe all summer would be so heavy. It already feels like my shoulders are burning. I know Victoria, Mark, Brian and Alexis didn’t think ‘backpacking through Europe’ actually meant backpacking through Europe. They probably have half a dozen suitcases with all their possessions and are prepared for anything. I’ll be lucky if I have clean underwear after two weeks.
“Careful there, don’t need ya falling over.” Jacob lifts his own dark green duffle onto his shoulders with no difficulty. I don’t know if it’s his teasing smile or his soothing accent or both, but I suddenly feel a little more at ease. I can feel myself staring. Without realizing it I’m tilting my head slightly and my eyes become slightly glazed over as if I’m in my own Nora Ephron movie. I should probably stop before I make this an awkward moment for both of us. I divert my gaze and focus on swinging my duffle onto my shoulders.
“I didn’t think backpacking actually meant I had to carry everything on my shoulders.” Without realizing it I start following him away from the baggage claim. I need to keep looking for my friends. Hopefully I’ll spot them soon. But Jacob is already better company. At least I’m not wandering around by myself.
“So where are they?” Jacob has an amused smile on his face. Probably because I accidentally spent too much time on the plane talking about how flighty and unpredictable my friends can be. He was probably expecting them to be clichéd, loud Americans that would show up to pick me up either half drunk or hung over. Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. I come back to my senses and stop dead in my tracks; Jacob stops too.
I’m usually their designated driver, which makes them think I wouldn’t want to go to the party until it’s time to pick them up, since who wants to be at a party and not drink? And with school and a part time job, it was starting to feel like they were more of acquaintances I kept in touch with. Alexis recently started dating Brian and Victoria and Mark had a history, which made me feel like a fifth wheel. When I found time away from work or school and I tried hanging out with just one of them that I could get a hold of, Victoria tended to get offended. Then there’s that time I had to pick them up from Wisconsin after one drunken road trip that ended in an arrest which they never did pay me back for the bail money.
I was probably just nervous and anxious about the trip; which makes me blab on for longer than I should. I blab when I’m nervous. Or worried. Or happy. Basically whenever I’m awake.
But everything’s going to be fine. Maybe they’re in another part of the airport. That’s it, I heard the plans wrong. They’re probably sitting around somewhere waiting for me. My plane was delayed; they couldn’t stand around in one place. I can’t believe I freaked out about it.
“They said they’d be at the baggage claim.” I turn back to see if maybe I missed them, “How many baggage areas are there?” I kept looking around. I’m starting to panic but I don’t want Jacob to see. I feel bad enough thinking my friends are unreliable. I don’t want Jacob to think that too, or worse, think that I’m the type of person who talks badly about their friends.
“Just the one.” He looks around despite not knowing what my friends look like.
“Then they should be here…somewhere.” I try not to look him in the eye. I don’t know him that well, but I can tell that he’s giving me a worried look right now. I stop for a moment to face Jacob and he does look worried. His face scrunches up and he lets out a long deep sigh before turning to look around again as if he’ll spot them.
They didn’t leave me. They wouldn’t. I force a smile on my face. I can’t panic.
I climb onto one of the black metal benches and start turning in each direction. Nothing. Jacob is now looking up at me with an expression as if I was five and he was going to tell me my puppy just died.
“They wouldn’t leave ya, would they?”
I almost fall of the bench and he moves his arms to block me from falling. I lean on his shoulder as I hop down.
“Of course not.” I try to keep the worry down in my voice and head. Don’t panic. I know they would leave me. Not deliberately…I hope. “The plane was delayed, they probably didn’t know.” I start to walk toward a long line of payphones that are filled with people. Each yelling louder than the next, trying to talk over the sound of the other people.
“That’s what all the signs and announcements are for; let people know to wait around.” Jacob leans in and yells over the crowd, clearly annoyed. I try not to look at him as I wait for a phone to open up.
Why is he more annoyed than me? Not that I’m not annoyed right now, but I need to remain calm. My friends are a lot of things, but they would never leave me knowing I was flying overseas to meet them. Yet there’s a part of me that wants to punch them for putting me through this, whether it was accidental or not. Something is boiling in me to take a cue from Jacob and start complaining about them.
“No, no, I bet they’re back at the hostel waiting for me. It’s no big deal, just a bit of…miscommunication. Happens all the time.” He’s still giving me that look. Only now he seems to want to punch something.
“You gonna be all right, then?” he trying to make eye contact and I keep jerking it away, pretending to look for a phone.
“Yeah!” My voice is higher than I planned for it to come out, “No big deal.” I attempt another smile. He knows it’s fake. Rolling his eyes he looks around again. I was going to try and reassure him again, but then a phone opens up and I rush to get to it.
With the receiver in one hand, I start rifling through my bag with the other. All the info they gave me about their hostel and plans are in one crumbled pile at the top of my things. I have to rest the receiver on my shoulder to sort through them.
I should have organized them before I left. Or bought a small notebook to keep it all in one place. If this mess gets settled, I swear I’ll get more organized.
“You sure you’re all right?” Jacob leans in close to my ear and practically shout to be heard over the people around us.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t pan—” I almost tell him ‘don’t panic,’ “its fine, just a little…whatever, thanks though.” With a stack of papers and phone in my hands, I wave and smile at him as he leaves. He still looks a little worried but I know everything is going to be fine.
I just need to get a hold of someone. I don’t have a cell phone; never could afford one. And never saw the point in having one until now. I carefully punch in number for the hostel and wait. And wait. After a short moment, a friendly sounding Italian woman answers.
“Buona mattina, Ostello Bello de Roma.”
I feel relieved that all my cramming languages might actually pay off.
“Oh! Ciao, umm, ero…cercare Victoria Tyler... or Brian Ortiz...è là loro... un blonde il tipo alto... tutto loro Americani.” I know what I’m trying to say but I can feel my voice start to shake and crack.
“I speak English.”
“Oh, thank God.” I probably shouldn’t have said that. I just didn’t want to say the wrong word and offend someone who can help me. “Sorry, I’m looking for Victoria Tyler, or maybe Mark Ortiz, or Alexis, or Brian, or any of them, it’s a small group; they’re all staying together.” I start shoving everything back into my bag.
“Un momento.”
There’s a long pause as I hold my breath waiting for the woman to respond. It’s going to be fine; don’t panic. Just a misunderstanding.
“The Tyler party checked out this morning.”
“What!?” Without realizing it, I scream into the phone. A few of the people around me turn, startled. I must have heard her wrong. “Are you sure?” My voice cracked.
“Yes, positive…I’m sorry, is something wrong?”
I don’t realize that small squeaks and whimpers have started coming out.
“No, no, umm, its fine, I’m sorry, thanks, I mean grazie…bye.” This can’t be happening to me. They didn’t just leave me without any explanation. There has to be an explanation. Call them. Victoria and Mark have cell phones. I’ll just call and everything will be fixed.
I pick up the receiver again and dial Victoria’s cell number. Voice mail. Why is it going to voice mail? She never turns her phone off. That stupid little thing is practically sewn onto her face. She has one of those voice mail recordings that take forever to get through. “Hiiiee…this is Vicki’s phone. If that’s not who you’re looking for just hang up now, I don’t have time to listen to messages from people I don’t know. And if this is Amy, I want my sweater back…anyway...wait for the beep!”
“Vicki! Where are you!? I don’t have a phone, so just…I don’t know, call my roommate back home, tell her where you’re staying next and I’ll call her, then meet you there, okay…Oh! And shorten that message; it doesn’t help people who are in a hurry! Okay, bye.” I use my finger to hang up the phone; the receiver frozen in my hand next to my ear.
The room’s becoming hazy and I’m getting dizzy. Call Mark. He’ll pick up. Even the voice in my head sounds lightheaded.
I lift my finger off the hang-up button, if that’s even what it’s called, and start frantically punching in Mark’s number. I close my eyes as the phone rings. And rings. I’m not very religious, non-practicing Catholic actually. But I still start to silently pray to myself. If I ever needed some kind of godly intervention it would be now. The Pope lives here after all; that’s got to count for something. Finally after what feels like hours, he picks up.
“Hello?!”
I have to move the receiver away from my ear because he’s screaming into his end. When I move it back I can hear some loud laughing and music playing in the background. They are not partying. For one they were supposed to be picking me up. . And two, it’s ten in the morning.
“Hi! Mark! It’s Dawn!” I try to yell and a few people around me quiet down their conversation.
“What? Hello!?”
“It’s Dawn!” I put a hand over one ear. Though I don’t know how this would help me. I can hear him fine.
“Is someone there?! Can’t hear you! Hellooo?!”
The laughing in the background is pissing me off. I feel the need to strangle him through the phone. This can’t be happening to me.
Just stay calm. Voice isn’t even paying attention anymore; I swear I hear it yawning.
I take a deep breath so I can yell again. I don’t care how much attention I’m drawing to myself. But then he hangs up.
Mark hung up on me. I should call him again, but what’s the point? He won’t even hear me.
I’m now abandoned in a foreign country, in an airport terminal, with no friends and no money and Mark had the nerve to hang up on me! With a party going on in the background no less.
I go from pissed to depressed in a second. I have to bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling. The voice in my mind can’t even bring itself to tell me to stay calm.
I go back to being pissed. Which isn’t a strong enough word for what’s going through my mind. Enraged. Betrayed. Murderous.
Who does that? They knew I was coming and they still didn’t care.
A flash of them came into my head. They came to the airport. Looked around for about five minutes, maybe less. Maybe only came within feet of the front sliding doors. Then left. Maybe they didn’t even come. They were in their hostel, laying on their beds and half asleep on chairs, deciding where to go next.
Brian would have suggested it. He would say through a grin, ‘I bet she isn’t coming.’
Then Alexis would attempt to defend me, ‘But she really wanted to come, she’s been saving and planning and getting excited for months. She would have called if she wasn’t coming.’ But no one will pay attention to her soft-spoken voice.
‘But she hasn’t been coming out with us as much lately.’
And in between his early morning drink, Mark would chime in, ‘Are we going yet?’
Then Victoria, who wanted to keep as much order to the trip as possible, giving everyone a shrug, ‘She better get here soon, we have a schedule.’ .
Mark burps, ‘Then we’re going?’ They all think for a few moments before nodding and grabbing all their things and leaving for the next city.
That’s probably exactly what happened. Those assholes. They didn’t have a schedule. Why do I keep putting up with this? I posted five hundred dollar bail for them and didn’t even get a thank you.
If I knew where they were, I would track them down and kill them. Or at the least break their bones. Though I’m not that strong. Maybe I’ll hire some strong Italian men to do it for me.
I slowly hang up the phone. My hand is frozen holding the receiver, as I stare into the phone as if I can make what just happened disappear.
Then I feel a small monster in my stomach. It wants to scream. I’m dizzy and nauseous trying to keep it calm. No use; it’s winning.
I rip the phone off its holder and slam it back down. I keep going; over and over again. I can’t stop myself. Slamming it, then picking it up, and instantly slam it back down. It feels a little better to do this. Though not completely.
People are staring; but I don’t care.
‘Scream’ the little monster in my stomach is taunting me, ‘You want to yell at them, do it. Let it out!’
“Fucking…gah! Merda! Fucking backstabbing, stupido merda sons of bitches!!” All that studying wasn’t paying off in my cursing.
“Miss…Miss…”
I slam the phone and let out one last whimper of a scream when I’m pulled out of my tantrum. Everyone on the other phones as well as a large crowd of people and a couple of security guards are watching me.
I should feel embarrassed, but I’m too upset.
The one talking to me is a tall, muscular Italian guard that looks down at me with shock and pity. Maybe he could kill my friends for me.
The tears are building and burning the back of my eyes.
“I’m…spiacente…realmente…difettoso…phone call.” I try to hold the tears in by widening my eyes and looking up. But the crowd is all looking at me with sympathy now. I put my hands over my face before anyone can see me cry. Which doesn’t help.
The guard picks up my bag and then put a large yet soft hand on my back. I look up at him and he’s trying to smile at me reassuringly.
I know my face is red and splotchy. Some people may manage to keep their composure when crying, but not me. I’m the most unattractive crying. I get as red as a tomato, I can’t breath normally, and my nose starts to run uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry.” I wipe my face with the back of my hands and take a few breathes.
The guard doesn’t seem angry. Probably scared by my sudden mood swings. I take my bag in a still shaking hand. He smiles and nods down at me. Then lightly rubs my shoulder before walking away. A few people are still watching me and I decide to leave the airport.
Though I have no idea what I’m going to do now.
Outside there are crowds of people getting into taxis, men standing around calling people into each one and then quickly calling for more people. Some were caught off guard and needed help lugging all their bags into the trunks. I can see the city off in the distance and try not to cry again. All I can do is stand there. I’m frozen, just staring, even as people briskly walked in every direction past me.
I should just go back and get my ticket changed so I can go home. But I can’t make myself move. This was supposed to be a changing point for me. I was going to travel. See the world. Now I would be back where I started only with a few less friends.
I saved and planned and came all the way to Europe and didn’t get past the airport. I know there’s nothing I can do about the situation at this point, but I just can’t leave. So I drag my bag over to a bench out of the crowd of tourists way and sit.
“What are you still doing here?”
I look up and see Jacob watching me.
“Waiting.” I look away from him. I don’t want to think what pitying expression he’s looking at me with now.
“You’re friends picking you up here?”
“No.”
“Did you get a hold of ‘em?” He moves to sit next to me.
“Nope. Well, sort of, but they’re not coming.”
“So…you’re gonna, what? Sit here?”
I turn to look at him and he’s giving me a sarcastic smile. There’s something about it that makes me feel better. I can see myself just sitting here with him for hours. Though I still feel the need to kill my friends.
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Good plan.”
I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.
“No, I’ll probably go home.” I try to shrug my shoulder as if it doesn’t matter to me, “Its fine, I probably wouldn’t have had a good time anyway…I’m not even fully prepared for a trip anyway, so…” I put on my best fake smile, “…it’s fine.”
“Well, you’re…thick.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No, honestly, I mean, why should you trot on back home? To do what? Nothing. Meanwhile, those prats are gallivanting across Europe all summer? Just go on without em. You’re here, so why not?”
“You know, funnily enough, wandering around a foreign country with no money and no friends isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.” I start to see flashes of all my friends having nonstop European parties as I sulk at home. I stand and drag my bag on the ground back towards the terminal, “It’s really not that big of a deal. I’ll come another time. Everything will still be here.”
Jacob follows and stands between me and the airport doors.
“Come with me then.” Jacob smiles. I must have heard him wrong.
“Excuse you?” I drop my bag and frown at him. My serious face is looking more confused but he seems thrilled.
“Yeah, come with me. Why not? I’m actually meeting a few friends up in Florence, but there weren’t any flight straight there, well, actually I booked my flight really last minute, so…but you can come with us…it’ll be fun, I bet we’re better company than those gits you call friends.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. He must feel sorry for me. Why else would he invite me along? But then he would be ruining his own trip. Jacob would be better company than my roommate’s cat. I can imagine her reaction if I came back home three months early, ‘I told you so. I can’t believe you spent all that money for nothing!’ My mother would think I was insane for agreeing to travel through foreign countries with a stranger. The polite chip she implanted in my brain is telling me say ‘no, it’s okay, don’t worry about little ole me.’ But I really want to jump at his offer.
“You really don’t have to offer.”
“Well, you really don’t wanna go all the way back home, do you? The flight alone should be enough to want you to stay here.”
Backpacking with Jacob would be perfect. I’m already imagining how I’ll have more fun with him than my friends. Then if I ever did see my friends again, I wouldn’t feel like an idiot for not traveling just because of them. Maybe I would even make it a point to mention that I ended up wandering around Europe with a charming, good-looking Scotsman.
“That’s sweet but I don’t wanna be a burden.” Why do I keep saying that? He’s offering and I keep trying to give him a chance to leave. If he wanted to leave, he would have already. Go with him you idiot! The little voice has woken up and is echoing in my head.
“Oh come of it! You’re no bother.” He keeps grinning at me as if he knows I’m just trying to be polite by refusing, “Plus, one of my friends, Percy, brought his girlfriend and she’s the only girl with us three guys, she’s already complaining, so you’d be adding to our holiday.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this just to be nice.” Shut the fuck up and just go!
“Who’s being nice? I want the company.”
He must be a mind reader. I love that he’s not taking my polite refusal as how I actually feel.
“I guess…yeah, sure, why not?” My head stops spinning, and I’m able to give him a genuine smile.
“Yeah? Fantastic!” His smiled got wider at this, “Let’s get a move on then.” He picked up his bag then offered his other hand to carry mine.
I smile to myself as I climb in the backseat of a cramped black taxi next to Jacob. There’s a smell in the air that I can’t tell if it’s gasoline or cologne. The driver gives me a small wink before asking where we’re going. Aside from the panicking, meltdown, and stares from strangers, getting abandoned may have been the best thing to happen to me.