In Lawrence, Kansas right now, enjoying the 100 degree heat and the company of my Dad. More details on that later. For now...

There And Back(pack) Again:
Chapter 2: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Flamingo...

After spending the morning in Venice, we hopped on another train to Florence. Along the way, however, we decided to take a pit stop in Ferrara, to see Castello Estense, the ancestral home of the Este family. Clearly, our family has gone somewhat downhill from the good ol’ days. Going from Machiavellian tyrants rivaling the Medicis to white trash from Arkansas, the Estes family has certainly seen some changes. We had a friggin’ moat! Anyway, we went through the castle to learn a little history about our family. It was quite nice, actually. We called it a day and headed back to the train station. This is when I realized that I no longer had my glasses on (this also says something about how much I need glasses when I can go an entire day without realizing that they are missing). Checking through the digital pictures we had taken, I noticed the first time I was not wearing them was the castle dungeon. There was something oddly humorous about leaving my glasses behind in the family dungeon. Oh well, we had a train to catch!

Arriving in Florence led to one of the many moments of tension between my sister and me. I will be the first to grant anyone that my sense of direction just plain sucks. However, Elizabeth is even worse. We were trying to find the hostel, and I was trying to help by offering the simple advice that we should travel in the correct direction. I think she believed my ability to discern the direction we were facing by the position of the sun in the sky was pure witchcraft. Anyway, I simply kept my mouth shut as she led us around in the complete opposite direction. Eventually she had to ask someone else for help (twice, actually). The important thing is we found it. This was an actual dormitory, unlike the Venetian attic. Bunk beds, lockers, what more do you need? Once we were settled in, we decided to hit the town!

Our first stop was a bar highlighted in my travel book for having a snack buffet. It took us a while to find the Elliot Braun Bar, since the numbering system was quite f-ed up. The deal was if we purchased a 5E drink, we could eat all we wanted. Sounded good to me. Liz had a nice glass of wine, and I ordered a mojito. I figured since it was only 5E (in a very nice-looking bar) and came with our grazing dinner, it was going to be weak. This was when I learned that Europeans make damn good drinks. This was basically a glass of rum. Oh, and it was delicious. The bartender made it with painstaking love and care. Mmmmm… once we had our fill of food, booze, and people-watching, we were ready for the next stop.

One of the greatest disappointments of the trip was the Flamingo. In Elizabeth’s guidebook, we were told of this great gay bar called the Flamingo. How could we pass this opportunity up? We followed the map and the address listed, which seemed to lead us to some shady-ass back streets and service entrances. The Flamingo was not to be found. However, in the strange way that the world works, when we were heading to the Flamingo, I heard someone say: “Andrew?” My ears perked up, but I kept walking since obviously this person couldn’t have been talking to me. Then I heard: “Andrew Estes?” This is when I stop in my tracks. I wheel around, and am greeted by Sara Podoll, former Straz resident. I was very freaked out. Oh, not by her, just by seeing someone from Marquette on the streets of Florence. Small world, huh?

Anyway, with the disappointment of the Flamingo, we decided to find a bar near the hostel. The first one we went into was a tad shady. By which we mean the really sketch guy that came to sit next to us suggested we get the absinthe. Check please! We had better luck at this cool Irish pub. We watched some of the World Cup and ordered a random drink. (Seriously, this was a random drink. The process? By smashing a potato chip on the table, the number of fragments told us which cocktail to order). I can’t recall the name of the drink, but it was basically a glass of vodka. With that, we headed back to the hostel (2:00 AM curfew… boo-urns!). Liz and I were the last two to enter the dorm room. Clearly, this was the perfect time to get the giggles. We were trying our damnedest (is that a word?) not to wake anyone up as we climbed onto our bunks. I’m sure we failed. After a solid 10 minutes of quasi-suppressed giggles, we fell asleep.