My wheeled carry-on clattered across what seemed like miles of tiles from the international terminal to my gate. I struggled to keep my briefcase strap on my shoulder as my laptop became heavier and heavier. Although I was in decent shape, I was panting and praying that my left knee, sans the neoprene brace I usually wore while running, didn't blow. By the time I reached the gate, I ran to the desk and asked the attendant about my flight. She glanced at my boarding pass and pointed to a line. Yep. A line.
I joined other travelers ready to go through a doorway. I unfurled my stiff fingers from the handle of my wheeled bag then pulled the briefcase from my shoulder, letting it rest on top of the bag. I was shaking. I was sweating. I was relieved, for once, that there was a line. As we walked through the doorway I realized that we weren't headed toward a gangway but to a hallway then down a flight of stairs which, of course, meant that I had to pick up my bags and carry them again. We walked out to the tarmac where a bus was waiting. Wanting to make sure I wasn't headed for a bus tour of Rome, I held out my boarding pass, again, and uttered just one word to some random uniformed guy, "Trieste?" I asked with my best Italian pronunciation. He nodded and I boarded the bus, once again forced to lift my bags. There were no seats so I stood and held onto a bar while we wound around the tarmac. When we stopped it was next to a line of small planes. One sat with a rolling set of stairs leading up to an open door. They appeared to go straight up from my vantage point. Flustered, dripping with sweat and wielding arms that felt like rubber, I started to slowly make my way up the stairs, stopping to set my bag down on each step, waiting for the line to move.
The plane was tiny and packed. I had to pick up my bag and carry it sideways down the narrow aisle, looking for my seat in the back half of the plane. I was lucky to find an empty spot in the overhead bin and with a final massive effort, lifted it above my head and slid it in. I crawled over a man in the aisle seat and plopped down into mine, trying to scoot my briefcase under the tiny seat in front. I felt like a very sweaty, tired sardine. On top of everything else, I started to get extremely nervous about seeing the Running Man (RM) again. I felt like a teenager on a first date. And wow, I was sure going to look terrific when RM met me at the gate in Trieste. There was nothing I could do but just hope that the flight was long enough for me to stop sweating before we landed.
As in Rome, we had to walk from the plane on the tarmac and into the terminal. At least the Trieste airport is small so you're never too far from where you need to go; however, smaller also means "fewer" in some ways. I stopped at the only bathroom I saw between the gate and the baggage area, hoping that I could splash a little cold water on my face, maybe brush my teeth and slap on a little deodorant and perfume. But the line was so long I just kept walking toward the conveyor belt where I waited for my massive checked bag. I was still trying to cool down and prayed I didn't look as awful as I felt.
Bags in tow, I rolled toward the populated exit where I hoped I'd spot RM quickly. Traffic split left and right outside the door and by instinct, I looked to the right. There he was, standing with a pristine white orchid in hand and a smile on his handsome, rugged face. I was shaking from a combination of nerves and fatigue. He hugged me, kissed me and held my shaking hands, welcoming me to Italy. I felt better already. RM took my bags and showed me outside to the parking lot. He opened the car door for me, handed me a bottle of water, loaded in my luggage then sat in the driver's seat. He was so happy to see me. How I looked at that moment didn't seem to matter. He told me I was beautiful.
I laid my head back and opened the window to feel the late-February Mediterranean breeze, taking in the sights of Trieste and catching my first glimpse of the Adriatic. I could smell the sea. Tired and sweaty but content, I finally relaxed and decided to enjoy the ride.
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