The Holiday-Making Italians

I love Italians. You may have gathered as much.

They are festive.

They are loud.

They are passionate.

They are HOT.

'Nuf said.

When I boarded EgyptAir flight 792 to Cairo I had no clue what was in store for me. But that's normal for a flight isn't it? As I wandered down the aisle of the plane, heading back to row 33, I passed numerous Arabs, Africans - what I assumed would be the bulk of passengers to Cairo. When I reached aisle 30, the landscape began to change to something a bit more local to Rome... Italians! Specifically a group of Italian men aged 25-40.

Um, yes please.

When I reached my seat, 33K, I found that it was already occupied, much to my brief confusion.  A small, older African man was sitting in it, cuddled up against the window, a bit uncomfortable amdist his boisterous Italian neighbors. We made eye contact and figured out he was supposed to be sitting across the aisle. He started to get up, and the two Italians to his side started to get up when I said that I'd just slip into other man's seat across the aisle. Immediately the Italian on the end looked at me, shook his head and said firmly "no." He and his neighbor finished moving into the aisle, and then the man in my seat gave me a grateful look as he moved into a row empty of Italians. I allowed my neighbors to stow my backpack in the overhead for me and then I snuggled into my seat.

I was excited for this flight. Boy oh boy. I chatted a while with my cute neighbors about our destinations. They were headed on a diving holiday to Sharm El Sheik. When I heard that I nearly laughed out loud.

Lemme 'splain why.

The night before I had a lovely dinner at a restaurant called La Gallina Bianca. It translates to "The White Rooster." One of my waiters (I had two for some reason) chatted with me for a while before I left. When he found I was headed to Cairo the next day, he said "Oh, I'm so glad you go to Cairo. Many Italians go to Sharm El Sheikh. It's just like Italy now. The food. The people. They just move everything to Sharm El Sheikh for holiday. This is not Egypt."

Fast forward back to the plane and me holding in my laugh.
*Hee*

About 30 minutes before landing, the Italians, the whole group of them - about 15 in total, strewn throughout my area of the plane began to sound Italian. Loud. Fun. Laughing. Shouting. In Italian. And when we landed, there was some delay in our disembarkation. Up ahead of us I could see most everyone else voicing or showing their annoyance at having to wait. They sighed and grunted. They moved in short, jerky, irritated ways.

But not the Italians.

As everyone else grew more annoyed, the Italians settled in, got louder, threw a party. Loud cries of Eh! And lots of laughter ensued. And as I was sitting in the window spot, all I could do was sit back, watch and enjoy. I was a prisoner at a hot Italian man party. When is that EVER a bad thing?

Okay, so this wasn't exactly what my flight was like... but a girl can dream.

A few minutes into our delayed disembarkation, someone noticed the luggage handlers arrive and start unloading our luggage onto a truck outside of my window. One Italian pointed out the window and started speaking very rapidly at several bags that was large and marked very clearly "Fragile." Everyone turned to look just as the handler reached to pick up the bag, swing it hard and send it flying onto the cart, in time with the Italian commenting "Boom!" "Boom! Boom!" It repeated several times, interspersed with laughter and more rapid Italian.

Party!

I was, understandably, a bit disappointed when it was time to leave. But I had to get to Amman, and they had to continue to their Italian diving colony in Sharm El Sheikh.

I was sorely tempted to ditch my current plans and go with them. Seriously. But curiosity is one of my biggest drivers, and I was dying to see all of the things I'd planned on my trip. So on I went to meet my tour in Jordan.