.....in which your intrepid reporter is duped into waiting at JFK by no less than 3 Delta employees who insist that "that lil' storm won't keep you in New York", followed immediately by me waiting in Atlanta to take off, waiting to land in New York, waiting to de-plane in New York, wandering aimlessly around JFK until security begins to take a keen interest while my flight time is moved back 3 times and then finally somebody just throws an "ish" on the proposed flight time (as in 11ish), followed by 8 hours in the air, which is followed by circling Nice like a confused Canadian goose until we are so low on fuel that we land in Italy, and begin a protracted wait on the tarmac while Delta, Pisa Airport, French and Italian Immigration, and a veritable encyclopedia of random policing agencies debate what to do with my co-travelers and I, only narrowly missing "give z'em to ze Germans" and ending up at Hotel Galilei in Pisa.
I must be living right.
Good thing I got that tattoo of St. Michael the Archangel defeating satan before I left.
No telling what trouble I would've ended up in without it.
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