Hit the airport boozer
Drank lots of Peroni - some seven glasses of the stuff if memory serves, which it doesn't. Details of any flight I take nowadays are always somewhat sketchy.
Final call to the gate and I complemented my final gulp of lager with 10mg of diazepam. The ensuing flight was as smooth as fucking silk - despite the carrier being a Ryan Air 737. It took me the best part of an hour to get the sassy bint in charge of the trolley to provide me with an in-flight beverage.
Landed in Treviso, near Venice. The weather wasn't behaving. In fact, life on Italian soil was beginning to irk me already - you travel half way across the globe and are greeted by intermittent showers and bad driving. From what I'd heard, once you landed Spag-Bol side life got decidedly warmer and lithe, bronzed torsos slinked around the place inciting seismic underpant activity. Didn't happen. Just rain.
Rain. And mountains...
Heading deep into the Dolomites...
Made it to the hotel and, after unpacking, headed into the lobby for dinner. Of course in Italy, a meal always starts with antipasti...