Well that wasn’t true and my heart stopped for a short time and when the bus finally arrived the grumpy old man (who wouldn’t pick up my luggage and put it underneath the bus) tells me he is not dropping me off to my hotel, but one nearby. Yet on my voucher it says it’s going to drop me off at my hotel. Apparently that’s not true. So now I am either going to have to kill myself and lug my luggage a couple of blocks to my hotel in the rain or take a taxi. That should be good for my back.
I need my Bobo. I need my Fairmont slippers and bathrobe. And I’m really going to need my eucalyptus steam room after I lug my luggage around town because I’m calabrese, I have a testa tosta (hardheaded/stubborn)and I’m not paying someone to take me a few blocks to my hotel.
And to make me positively miserable, the grumpy old driver only listens to Country Music. Two and a half hours on a bus playing country music! Kill me now!
Oh, things are looking up! My ear phones are in my purse and my iPads in my lap as I write my woes to you this gloomy, rainy day.
Good bye country music! Hello One Republic!
Oh oh. I have to go to the washroom and there isn’t a washroom on this bus!
I’ll Write later. My stops coming up!