This isn't driving, it's crashing with style!

So the next morning, we got up and after tearful goodbyes with 80, we left, very early, for the Athens airport.

There we boarded a flight headed for the Rome Airport, and, sans two events, everything went smoothly.

The first was QoD falling asleep on a bench in the boarding area of our terminal. Normally not an issue, but she chose to roll over.

Benches, as you, dear reader, may know, are not very wide. None of us actually saw her roll over; we simply heard a loud noise and were impressed to see her sitting up, wide eyed, on the ground. She had that look that cats get when they've just done something incredibly ungraceful and are hoping no-one saw, and we did our best not to laugh, but failed miserably.

The second was my father deciding, 20 minutes before takeoff, to go mail some postcards because he had some Greek stamps left and didn't want them to go to waste. Of course, it turns out the nearest mailbox is in another postal code, so he is the last person to board the plane, at final boarding. When he did finally board, our whole section (and there were 11 of us) cheered for him, sarcastically.

So, disaster and injuries avoided, we made our way to the city to which all roads lead--Roma, the ancient capital of an empire that has never been surpassed.

When we arrived, we had been told we would be meeting one of the organizers from the Groupo Historico, because we had made all our living arrangements through a re-enactment and preservationist historical society that was one of the major players in the annual Founding of Rome Parade, which is held each year in the spring, at the time when it is thought Rome was first created.

The only slight problem here was that our contact was no-where to be found at the airport.

A phone call and some waiting later, my father ran back inside and said "Hey! I found them. There are two guys in a big public service van with a blue light out front and a sign that says "Gladiators". They don't speak any English, but I think they are here for us.

So out we went, all 12 of us, into the rain (because it was proper-raining now--not a light drizzle but a steady, consistent mist that clings to your clothes and chills everything around you, even your hair.

We climbed (all fourteen of us, including the two guys) into a cargo van meant for 5 people and misc. cargo (literally, there was a driver seat, a passenger seat, and one bench for three). We loaded in all of our gear, clambered on top of it, and off we went into the traffic of Rome.

I'll talk more about the traffic of Rome in a separate post, probably called "Elephants, Stampeding Herds, and Bees", but for now just imagine chaos. Half of us facing backwards can barely see, and the overloaded van is hurtling through the slick Roman morning with all intentions of passing everything else on the road, weaving around other vehicles. Eventually when traffic backs up they turn on their flashing blue light and we go flying down the emergency lane like a bat out of hell, probably terrifying the kids, and making both Dad and I laugh "So that's what the blue light is for!"

This part of the trip was a bit crazy, but it was nothing compared to the arrangements we had at Camping Fabulous.

Which, in light of our four days there, is now considered by some in our group "The New F Word."

But that's another story.