My gift of light snow quickly changed to heavy snow in a matter of minutes, and as things progressed it wasn’t turning out to be very much of a gift. When we leave the house to drive to the train station there is already quite an accumulation. In the midst of Smart cars fishtailing and motorini chugging along on the sidewalks it takes us an entire hour just to drive around the corner. The city is completely paralyzed and I’m sure this is the only time I will ever see Romans driving slow and cautiously. It is obvious that there is no way I am going to make my train to Florence at this pace. We spot a taxi and I quickly transfer cars while my host mother iterates to the driver that it is my birthday and he must get me to the nearest metro stop as soon as possible. While in transit the taxi driver tells me that Rome hasn’t had weather like this in 25 years…an irony of numbers. I make it to the metro, make it to the train station, and have 5 minutes to catch my train. The information isn’t adding up as I look at the schedule to find my track number. I ask a conductor for help and he informs me that due to the weather conditions my train has been delayed and re-routed to a different train station in Rome. He adds that I will not make my train and that I will have to catch the next one. I look at my watch, and see that I have a mere10 minutes to get from one station to the next. At this point I’m determined to make that train and I start running in snow boots that are too big for my feet, my luggage trailing behind me. All through the train station and the metro, my spurts of running are frequently interrupted by slow moving people, but I do my best to dodge the hundreds of travelers who are utilizing the only functioning means of transportation. When I get to the other train station I frantically check the schedule for the track number, barely even stopping. I make it to the track and see a train quickly pulling in, only to zoom right past me. A straggler runs up to the platform and asks me what happened to the train. I tell him it didn’t stop and at this point I have no idea what to do. He runs off and I just start running after him. I am barely keeping up with him, but from a distance I see him talk to someone and then dart quickly to the left. I continue running to reach the point where he turned and I’m losing steam as I’m running up the ramp to the correct platform, screaming “aspetti!!!” like a lunatic. One of the conductors hears me, grabs my luggage, tosses it onto the train, and I stumble aboard. I have the taste of metal in my mouth, and I acknowledge how this was the most exercise I’ve gotten in five months. I can’t believe I actually made it.
