Funny, Crazy, Embarrassing Stories While Traveling: A Memoir

Two months ago, my fiance Tyler and I went on a life-changing 2 week long European trip. While it was totally amazing, we are two certified goons who are sure to do some goofy stuff. And if we don't do them, we are sure to find ways to get into those situations.

The Time We Got Screwed With Luggage

We thought we had it all in control and figured out. We researched all three of our airline's luggage policies to make sure our carry-ons were the right dimensions, so we wouldn't spend money on check-in luggage.

Apparently, this airline weighs your carry-on bags too. We both had a backpack and a small wheeled bag stuffed with electronics, clothes, and shoes so they were VERY overweight. We had to pay $65 EACH to check in our small wheeled bags. That's $130 for our trip that could've been spent on something important—like oh, I don't know, FOOD.

The Time We Were Tricked by a Parisian Man

We land in Paris. We need to figure out how to get from the airport to our hotel and the best form of transportation to do so. The subway would have cost under 30 Euros for the both of us, while the taxi was a little over 50. I was nervous to take the subway, though, because I've never done it before and didn't want to get lost. So we start walking towards the taxi pick-up area and successfully shooed off a clear random man asking if we needed a taxi. We were so proud, laughing like, "We're not getting taken today, bye." Then another man, standing directly under the taxi sign, asks us the same question. We go with him, follow him outside to his car, and it's a brand new BMW SUV (clearly not a taxi) and I think, "Oh, SHIT."

That 50 Euro taxi ride turned out to be a 90 Euro taxi ride, just to go 20 miles BECAUSE THE GUY WASN'T A REAL TAXI DRIVER.

Oh, and by the way, 90 Euros is $110!

The Time We Got Lost on the Metro

We finally get to our hotel, put our things down and go straight to the Metro Station so we can find the Eiffel Tower. Neither one of us know a lick of French, but luckily the ticket booth lady knew a tiny bit of English. I kept repeating what she said about the routes to take and where to get off. Oberkampf to Bastille, line #1 to Tuileries. It should take about 20-30 minutes. Now, let's take a look at the map together...

I've highlighted our route in purple with the green dots being our destinations. The green circle is where the lady kept pointing to us about switching lines. Besides the fact that this map raises my blood pressure, but the pointing was confusing. About 3/4 of the way through the ride, Tyler asks when we're going to get there.

Our confident selves road the metro all the way to the end of the line where the lady kept pointing. We were on the metro for AN HOUR. We got off, guessed which way the next metro was going (luckily, got on the right one) and rode it back like six or eight stops to where we were supposed to get off. Smooth.

The Time We Almost Got Stopped at Security

We're at the airport in Paris headed to Palermo for the week to be with my family. It's our turn to go through security. We take off our coats and shoes, take our electronics and liquids out of our bags and walk through— business as usual. I forget to put my travel sized hairspray into a plastic bag, so the woman put it in one for me, and I carry on. The woman stops Tyler too and starts checking all of his bags. This woman looks at us and pulls out a butter knife. You cannot make this up. This noodle-head forgets he has legit silverware in his bathroom bag. If he got us arrested for this, girrrrrrrrlll..

The Time We Tried Pulling a Fast One

It's the night before we leave London to fly back home, and we're worried we are going to have to pay $130 again to check-in our bags. We left a few clothing items with my grandma in Sicily, but it was definitely not enough. We start brainstorming and think of a "great" plan—we wear as many layers of clothes as we can and hide the laptop under one of jackets just so we can get through check-in. Plus, we saw a self check-in kiosk at JFK for Norwegian so we hoped London airport would too, so we could sneak on through. We, being the super slick people we are, both have on two to three pairs of pants, four to five upper body clothing items, I have on my heaviest boots with leg warmers and biggest scarf, and Tyler has the laptop hidden under his jacket holding it up via his jacket pockets. Again.. I cannot make this up.

Conclusion: we found the kiosk, used it successfully, didn't have to talk to any employees, and did all of that for no reason.

It was our first day in London and the day of the Arsenal game. Tyler had a coworker that had connections to get him tickets, so we had to meet him in order to get them and pay him. He tells us to meet him in front of a Nike outlet store in the middle of shopping district. He says he'll be in all black, sweatpants, a hat, and looks like he just came from the gym. So we get there and are looking around for this man that fits the description. Not only did we not know what this man looked like at all, literally every man outside the Nike Town outlet was dressed in black sweatpants and a hat. We spent five minutes debating whether or not to confront a guy we thought was him, staring at him, trying to look inconspicuous yet clearly creepy. Wasn't him.

The Time Tyler Finally Felt Important

My grandparents didn't know we were coming to Italy, so it was a total surprise for them. The rest of my family knew, though, and that includes my four younger cousins (aged 5-12). They acted like having an American in their presence was like they just struck gold (or how I would feel if Justin Timberlake pulled me up on stage during his concert and danced on me while singing "Rock Your Body"). They stuck to him like little mosquitos asking him a million questions: What's your favorite color? Coke or Pepsi? What's your favorite soccer team? What's your favorite school subject? Playstation or Xbox? Cats or dogs? What's your favorite food?

Fun fact: My cousins only know certain words in English from school and Tyler knows no Italian.

I spent the week translating all their silly questions. By the end of the week, my eight-year-old cousin, Simone, was saying "Tyler my best friend" and, even to this day, him and his brother Francesco (12), messsage on WhatsApp telling Tyler they miss him. If that doesn't just melt your heart...

Don't worry! The goofy, embarrasing stories don't end here. Stay tuned to read what's next on Diary of a Goofy, Tan Woman.