“No one here gets out alive.”

On just another Sunday, I was sitting in my cousin Filomena’s apartment, sipping coffee during the weekly brunch that is a standing appointment here.

I had my normal seat next to her brother Anthony, talking about the trip to Rome that my wife and I had recently taken.

I’m not certain which one of us quoted the Lizard King, aka Jim Morrison, iconic leader of the Doors, but it regarded all the fears I had taking that trip, before I even looked at a single flight.

We embarked on this trip recently after initial plans were shut down by the pandemic and to be honest, being a little on the paranoid side in rescheduling in any of the subsequent years.

Fear has a way of making a potentially magical life event seem like a hazardous trip into the unknown.

Self defeating dialogue may go along these lines:

I’ve never been to Europe – it’s so far. What if something happens?

What if we spend all this money? The price looks excessive. What if I can’t make that money back?

I can barely sit still for an hour – how do I plan to sit for a nine hour flight?

You probably know the drill.

Paranoia was all on my end, and I’m sure my wife was wondering why I was putting off a goal I’ve had since I was young.

In the end, it was a mistake to delay this trip, on any level.

In the grand scheme, our time here on Earth is short. We’re, as you’ve no doubt heard, “a speck in the eye of the universe.” Hell, even with a long life, we’re here for the equivalent of a cup of coffee.

“No one here gets out alive.”

As our Delta flight lifted off from JFK, we made our escape as political discord (in our country) was reaching another zenith with a comically lengthy government shutdown.

Seriously. It was time to be immersed in another culture.

It was an escape to a more relaxed and chill vibe, and a road traveled where getting lost isn’t inconvenience, but instead discovery.

Just Another Tourist?

Once in Rome, we were easily recognizable as tourists – “solo un tourista” – but didn’t want to be just another American tourist. We wanted to be more than self aware and respectful to this local culture that was opening a brand new world to us.

Regardless of our American roots, we wanted to blend with locals as much as possible.

Yes, of course we did the touristy things – photo opp at the Colosseum, coins into the Trevi Fountain, staring wide-eyed at the sun beaming through the Pantheon’s oculus.

We spent a crisp, autumn-like Wednesday morning in St. Peter’s Square where the sky was such a deep blue you could wonder, “Is this the closest place to heaven on earth?”

As that thought transpired, the new American Pope rode through the Square, blessing an infant within an arm’s length of where I stood.

Truly a life changing experience.

When the tours were over, the transformation began, from tourist to “blending in,” taking a walk on the Roman side.

We dressed in our best, and made note of the casual ease of Italian hospitality.

It was a vacation that surpassed any built up expectations that we had.

Somewhere along the line, this thought bubbled up: is this what I had experienced anxiety about?

When delaying what may become a life altering trip (or any similar event), we can’t subscribe to the belief that there will be a “better time” later – it can be a time that frequently never arrives.

Time and circumstances can be wildly unpredictable. Health, responsibilities, finances, and global conditions (pandemic, anyone?) can change, making future travel harder.

Waiting for ideal conditions? You could miss your one opportunity.

You could also miss a chance to reshape identity and priorities. Stepping outside familiar environments challenges your assumptions and creates clarity about what really matters.

I’ve always identified as “Italian,” but born in America. Being in Rome, I felt reconnected.

I wasn’t home, but I felt strangely at home regardless.

I knew I was retracing the footsteps of my family before me. An emotional reconnection, for sure.

You also realize that while money can often be earned again, time, youth, and certain life windows cannot.

Delaying the trip as we did felt responsible at the time, but as another calendar year approached, I didn’t want this window to close.

FEAR = False Evidence Appearing Real

Fear and anxiety, whether bothersome or crippling, rarely take a day off. When it was time to depart, the nervousness I felt resulted in a cappucino spilled onto the gleaming floor at the airport near our gate, and I got one last dose of Italian hospitality: a quick clean-up by shop workers, a pleasant exchange, and a replacement coffee at no charge for my troubles.

My worries were unfounded. The nine hour flight back to New York was the smoothest I’ve ever taken.

Touching down after the flight, the breath I exhaled was one not just of relief, but of immense gratitude – I never forget the privileges afforded to us to travel, to take the journey that I had contemplated since I was a kid – when posters of Rome adorned the walls of my bedroom, right alongside the sports and rock stars that I idolized.

To make that reconnection to loved ones long gone on that foreign soil, on the cobblestones that they had walked so many decades ago: let’s just say Rome did change me – it changed us. Our perceptions had shifted, and reassimilation into life in America proved to be a little more of a challenge than we thought.

The cure to that would always wait for us, if we ever want to return, only a little over 4,000 miles away.

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