How Do You Say "I Could Kill Someone" in Italian?

Oh, wait, it doesn't matter. Because I'm not in Italy.

So, I've never been quite so excited as I was for my Italy trip. It's my first day(s) off since New Years, and I've been eagerly anticipating time away from work and sleep deprivation and with my family. And everything was going well...perhaps...too well?

So we get to the airport and we're on line to check in. I pull out my passport and I'm flipping through it. My first thought is, "hey, where are my australia stamps?" and my second thought is, "hey, why are there no stamps in here from after 2002?" and my third thought is "why don't I just flip to the front to make sure this isn't my expired passport, which I probably threw away anyway," and my fourth thought is "oh, fuck."

So we take a minute to flip out, and we call my parents' friends who graciously spent about an hour looking in the two places I could think of where the passport might be. They don't find it...so my dad and I run to rebook me on tomorrow's flight where they only have business class available, so my parents will have to spend a few thousand extra dollars for my gaff...they're thrilled. But by the time we actually get around to booking, there are NO more seats on the flight. Finally, they get me on a flight tomorrow that goes to Atlanta and another from Atlanta to Rome (Let's play a round of name that airline! If you said Delta, you know your hubs!) Luckily because it's coach and a stopover, changing my flight only costs my parents a whopping $2.96. I'm happy I'm not screwing my parents over too much.

By now it's 4:16 and their flight is at 5:20, and Natalie's standing with the luggage in another building. We're talking to the woman who's getting my tickets set up and she says, "You're flight's at 5:20? You have exactly four minutes to check in." So I RUN to Natalie and we run back. By now Natalie is, understandably, a little more than a little annoyed with the whole situation, pretty much being told to stand in one spot on her own for two hours and then being rushed like mad with the luggage. They check in, I get a car home, walk in the door, walk to the one place I didn't tell the friends to check, and find my passport within 15 minutes. The car to JFK is booked, my new tickets and passport are in my bag, the parents are texted, emailed and messaged, and I have a night to kill and a stomach to fill.

You know what word I DON'T love it when a man says? (Oh, "Sneakers" reference! Booya!)