I wasn’t supposed to have enough time to dream last night.
I zipped my carry-on shut at 3:04am, which left me just enough time for a nap before my 5:30am wakeup call. (I’ve been indulging in 9-hour sleeps lately, and have been spoiling myself with extra energy.) But those select exceptions still linger, such as last night, when there was so much life flowing through me, it was nearly impossible for my body to shut down.
I woke up to sunshine: a terrible sign. As the haziness from my sleep began to wear off, I grabbed my cell phone to learn the time: 7:54am. Of course, one of my biggest fears of life (my alarm not sounding) WOULD come true the morning I’m scheduled to fly home to the States. I Skyped my dad, 1:56am local time, expecting to hear plans for a miraculous recovery; “run” was all he had. (Considering “check in” needs to happen two hours prior to an international departure, I couldn’t possibly have been more screwed at that very moment. 9:55am, that bad boy was leaving with or without me.)
I made it out the door of my apartment by 8:04am, just 10 minutes after waking up: fact. I rushed to Piazza Trilussa hoping to catch a taxi to the local train station, but given my circumstances, it would make perfect sense for the last taxi to pull away just as I got to the piazza. Plan B: race to the tram. I made that, amazingly, and found myself at the train station a good 15 minutes later. Grabbed a ticket to the airport, and made it to the platform just before the train pulled away. Arrived at the airport, and went strait for the transfer bus to T5. Still…I would need a miracle.
Made it past baggage security, only to find the signs pulled for the New York flight. Agent’s words: “The flight closed a while ago.” Well of course it had; I made it to the desk at 9:22am…33 minutes before departure. But my, what a few phone calls can do, when you’re Frank’s daughter.
Basically, I was personally escorted through security, then to passport control, onto a near-empty bus that only leaves when at full capacity, and dropped off straight at my gate. Got there to find a crowd of Italian agents smiling and cheering me on, as I ran onto the aircraft…literally. First class seat? CHECK. I was sitting in 6G by 9:41am exactly, don’t ask me how. And I’m not surprised that the woman sitting next to me was a professional photographer, on her way home after visiting her love in Europe…making her long distance relationship work…Ma certo! This trip: a wonder for the history books.
And to top it off, I made the early flight out of JFK to DTW, also in business class, thanks to its delay. The running, the sweating, the phone calls, the anxiety: all worth it to see my beautiful family on the other end of the pond. $200 round trip to Barcelona would’ve been a no- brainer; an easy breeze, today…but going through some extra loops to be home: priceless. Thanks daddy, and thank you airlines. Let this week of craziness BEGIN!
<—-NEW YORK [JFK]
<—- MICHIGAN [DTW]
After a hectic day, I got into his car and we just drove. We zipped through Roman traffic, down streets I’d never been on before, and escaped the bustle of the city. It didn’t take long to get to the outskirts; “La Città Eterna” just kept getting smaller and smaller, and soon, it didn’t even feel like Rome anymore.
There’s a whole different energy here at night.
We stopped in a dark parking lot, where the only light came from the mansions of modern-day aristocrats…the villas of “Italian highborns.” Not far from where we parked: a locked garden, hidden by ancient walls. [It was beautiful in the dark, I tried imagining it sun-kissed…but more so, I tried imagining the reasons for my being there.]Two uniformed guards watched from afar; one man smiled.
He walked up to the door and called for me. Then he told me to look through the keyhole: the keyhole of the Gate of the Knights of Malta. Aventine Hill…that’s where we drove to. When Piranesi designed it in 1765, he had a goal for that keyhole—-And tonight, was I ever so grateful that his vision was able to come alive.
Through that hole, I saw the Vatican standing gallantly before me; perfectly framed, illuminating the city beneath. Enclosed by arches of overgrown vines from within the garden, there it stood…rooted…a bold face of the Italian culture and its people. It all made sense: I needed to fall back in love with Rome, far away from the rest of the world. And it came so simply; so naturally.
Just when you’re left with a sour taste in your mouth, and you’re forced to swallow hard against your will, the unexpected pays you a visit. And suddenly, things aren’t so bad anymore…they’re just…different. Thank you for surprising me, and for taking me there.
I will always be in love with Vintage Vogue. Timeless class.
It’s been a project in the works for quite some time, but today is the official debut of ”Model.Behaviour. By Melissa Ashley.”
Shifting gears a bit, Mi.Pix.P h o t o g r a p h y is branching off with this second site, focused solely on to the photography of humans- of everyday models.
Barbara . Sara . Matt . Stephanie . Art . Brandon . Joseph . Jacey . and a few others…
Check out what these humans are up to…Follow Model.Behaviour. By Melissa Ashley on Tumblr. [http://www.humansbymipix.tumblr.com/]
We all need ++SPACE++ in our lives.
Todos necesitan ++ESPACIO++ en sus vidas.
Tutti hanno bisogno di ++SPAZIO++ nella loro vita.
++We all need to feel like we can go to SPACE, even though it may be far…turn on your iPod++
++We all need a religion with SPACE for us.++
++SPACE Disco Pour Vous…Todos los meses, people!++
++El Mar…Vastness…SPACE everywhere++
++The Luxury of SPACE in A330 World Business Class++
++More SPACE in our luggage++
++And anyone’s dreams…more SPACE in our closets++
What would advertisements look like for today’s products, in a pre-digital world?
~The MacBook Pro~
~The Nintendo Wii~
…Let it Grow & Unite With the Community to Celebrate With Us!”
^ That is their slogan, and that is what these men live by.
I would have never thought that I would be attracted to a guy with a moustache, but I am certainly loving “Marco” these days. Ever notice those ads on the right hand side of Facebook? I hardly ever pay attention to them, but once in a while, a photo pops up that gets me curious. This morning, on my usual Facebook check, I came across one of a select few symbols that truly iconize my boyfriend, Kyle: the moustache.
The moustache, which has always had great symbolic meaning behind it, implies many things for males; style, complete radness, and confidence. As of late, it has also taken on yet another significant representation: keeping a well groomed stache means that a man is “taken.” But what’s the fuss about? What’s behind this ad that is receiving more and more widespread attention?
Basically, a few “epic humans,” as Kyle would call them, organized a national holiday in Italy for the 19th of November. It’s called: Festa Dell’Uomo, or “Holiday [in celebration of] Men.” The idea is to celebrate men, and for them to grow out their moustaches during the month, to celebrate their manhood. Pretty amazing how what started as a simple idea is now taking these dudes to the top, becoming sponsored by the Discovery Channel. As a station whose shows promote the many interests of men (i.e. Mythbusters, Top Gear, Deadliest Catch, Dirtiest Jobs, etc.), Discovery agreed this would be an appropriate cause to back.
Their official website, “www.lafestadelluomo.com,” includes photos of people from all over, for the site’s Moustache Growing Contest, a countdown until November 19th (down to the very second), and growing track of the number of people who Like “La Festa Dell’Uomo” on Facebook. These are interesting humans, who live life being random and funny…I think Kyle would approve :)
I am now very moustache-aware. The shapes, the sizes they come in…they’re just funny to notice on the streets of Europe. But mostly, I notice them because they remind me of you and Marco. With love…
Become a Fan on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/lafestadelluomo?ref=ts&v=wall