Posted by: Team McSlade | June 28, 2010

Rats on Pizzas

“Do you like Rats? Do you like Rats on Pizzas? Umm, something else…”

In the inimitable fashion of a child wanting to find something to do in a car ride (from Amalfi to Rome), Luca decided to ‘write’ Zach a letter. He was asking what Zach liked and started combining his nouns, thus we have ‘Rats on Pizzas’.
This is also the same four year old kid that has stated we are having a girl and she shall be called either Reindeer or Santa Claus. Thanks Luey.

Getting back to the case at hand, we need to mention the Karmic retribution that was dealt to us at Rome airport. After slagging off other tourists as annoying and somewhat puerile throughout our posts, Jo and I have been served our own medicine as we brought the EasyJet boarding line to a grinding halt. 

As we had arrived a lazy five hours early at the airport, we had several hours to kill. Our baggage was handed over at the checkout about 2½ hours before boarding time and we arrived at our gate with two other flights still to leave from there before ours.
After setting up camp, Zach, Jess and I took Luca for a wander. The Ferrari shop got a visit and all was looking good, until kid’s shoes for 94€ (AUD$150) were spied. The teddy bears were a garish price too and forget about trying to buy a t-shirt for under 50€. More expensive shops were viewed from the hallway (Gucci, Bulgari…) and after realising we are the ‘poor’ travellers we sauntered back. 

EasyJet Base Camp

Jo, Matt, and Kate took their turn at looking, but not touching in these shops and with more time to kill, I decided to see what was to the right of our position. More expensive shops on another level were found, with Nike, Hermes and Calvin Klein trading their wares.
It was a pair of extremely rude Nike football boots (florescent mauve and black) that had me get Jo to come and have a look. 

Here’s where attention to the time should have been paid by such seasoned travellers as ourselves, but the Alitalia flight to Munich was still up on our board, so all appeared good.
With a slow lap – courtesy of pregnancy – under way, I showed Jo the boots, laughed heartily, and then proceeded to other shops. A CK Italia t-shirt for 14 bills was spied, and we thought Matt might enjoy squeezing into it. We decided to go back to our base camp, to get him to try the t-shirt.
 It was at this point that we noticed a line had formed at our gate (NB: Easy Jet do not allocate seats, it’s a bunfight at the O.K. Corral, thus getting eight people seated together on a flight is a virtual impossibility). I got on the jog with Jo shuffling behind me to find our extended party at the head of the line. 

If you call ‘having checked through and waiting at the other side of the gate’, the head of the line.
Allegedly, as soon as we left for shopping district B, the line formed, the boarding details changed from Munich to Venice and Matt continued pre-season training by running laps of the airport looking for us.
‘Yeah, Matt, we were upstairs… we found you a t-shirt in CK..nah, it was a small…you needed a large? really? It looked fairly big…what, boarding passes…doubles…’ 

Adding insult to the annoyance we had provided for the rest of our flight-mates; was the fact that we had doubled up on boarding passes. Jo mentioned that we had printed ours and that the check-in people also gave us another. I mentioned she could take it up with them, not us.
Then we cranked up her rage-o-meter and the ire of fellow passengers now waiting impatiently behind us (and ‘tutting’ profusely), when we produced four passports for three passengers. Somehow through this woman’s due diligence to flight safety she had let Jess sans passport through with Matt and Kate, while Zach was left on the outer. Four into three (times four by two) is a horrendous mathematic equation that we had managed to create for EasyJet. 

So, for a few moments we wrestled the title of ‘Team Chaos’ away from Matt and Kate, and in such a farcical nature, it would have been fitting if Hulk Hogan or the Mucho-Man, Randy Savage, had dropped in with a flying elbow, a pile-driver or a chair to the back of the head to complete the show.
‘Why is the referee permitting this?’ 

Rats on Pizzas, anyone? …and off to Venice we went. 

Any Rats on there, Luca...?


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