I’m currently writing this on my plane from Lisbon, Portugal back to Rome. Traveling is funny. First of all, I’ve never been on a flight where they announce the time before landing more in advance then this one. The pilot just came on the loud speaker to announce that we had 55 minutes left until landing. Ok perfect, guess I’ll start a new book?? Or maybe I’ll even write one???

Anyway, to sum up the weekend, my friend found a hair in her salad and after informing the waiter he literally replied “shit happens.” I can’t think of any better phrase to encompass what it means to travel. Shit simply happens.

For example, I was starving after my flight to Lisbon that I was forced to eat airport tuna. I set up shop on a bench located in the grand central of baggage claims, and munched. That shit happened and now we both have to suffer through it. But that’s just the name of the game of travel. There are solutions, whether it be publicly scarfing down airport tuna or paying the extra $45 to check your bag, to every problem.

Lisbon was awesome by the way. A beach town in a city, fucking cool. We attempted going out last night but to no avail, all exhausted from days of travel and minimal sleep. However, despite only being out for a total of 15 minutes, we managed to wrack up some truly unique cat-calls. Most notable of which was when my friend got called a “sex cookie.” Like you, I have no idea what that means. Thank you? I guess??

This occurrence, seemingly meaningless, really got me thinking about sex culture in different places; an equally fascinating and loaded topic. I’m truly confused by it all. I’ve never really got the point of cat calls. It’s funny because as I write this i’m like “where you goin with this?” and I guess I have no idea but it’s just weird. Lol. Like was calling my friend a sex cookie supposed to result in sex or a cookie, or both?

They just turned the lights off in the cabin. I love that. It’s my favorite part about flying at night. With the lights off and the muffled sound of the airplane, there’s a sense of privacy among the hundreds of strangers you’re so intimately seated with. It’s as of the darkness and loudness of the plane gives the impression that you can get away with more; a weirder facial expression, a louder sigh, a quiet burp, a personal text. It feels as though everyone just relaxes a little in their seats. Like everyone’s a little less upright and uptight.

Ope, just got another announcement that we’re landing in 13 minutes. If there’s another announcement for the last 10 minutes I’m gonna pull a “Catch Me if You Can” and dip.