6 weeks

My first trip abroad was to Italy. My husband and I landed at Milan Malpensa Airport after flying all night, got into a rental car, and drove for about an hour to our hotel. Seeing Italy for the first time was a pinch-me experience. I couldn't believe I was actually there. It was beautiful. My first impression of Northern Italy was that it reminded me of the foothills of Northern California. I immediately felt at home. Olive trees, rolling hills, and little villages sprinkled here and there—it was picture perfect.

Looking back on that first day is funny to me now--not so funny then. We checked into our hotel, went up to our room, and found out that they had accidentally put my husband in a single room. One twin bed. And in the bathroom—a tub, no shower. So I did what any sleep-deprived wife would do. I sat on the bed and cried, and said to him—well, you get the floor!

Down to the front desk he went—20 minutes later, we were shown to a beautiful double room with expansive views. And a shower.

Let me explain the tears. I found out all those years ago that I don't travel well on overnight flights.

I don't sleep. At all.

Well, maybe 20 minutes or so, but that's about it. My husband, on the other hand, puts on his little eye mask, sticks his earbuds in, and passes out for hours. And me? I read several magazines and books, watch movies, and generally build up unwarranted anger toward the snoring, drooling man sitting in the seat next to me on the plane.

I tried Ambien once. I didn't sleep much more on the plane, but the 24 hours after that were nothing short of comical. In the rental car, I pretty much zonked out. My head rolled from side to side as my husband drove through the twisting roads of England. He pulled up and parked our car in the company's parking lot, where he had an appointment. I guess he couldn't wake me, so he left me there. Folded into the backseat, snoring blissfully away for the next 4 hours. He came out to get me for lunch and, again, couldn't wake me. Later that evening, when it was time to go for dinner, I waved him away—and crashed until the next morning. I don't have much memory of those 24 hours. He told me later that he came out to get me, took me into the restroom, made me drink some water, and introduced me to the office staff. He said they really enjoyed meeting me. I'm still contemplating ways to get him back—you know what they say about payback...

I have discovered that when we arrive after an overnight flight, I always need a one-hour nap and a shower. If I get that, I've learned that I can get through that first day without crying and/or having a nervous breakdown, and I have learned that I can not take Ambien.

In 6 weeks, we leave for Europe again. For me, a lot of the fun is in the planning. My folder is already a ½ inch thick with the hotel, car rental, and ticket information. I've mentally packed my suitcases — yes, I said suitcases; I take 2 and pay extra —I've done some shopping, and I've daydreamed. I'm ready. 2 weeks in Europe, a real vacation, no work, just us.

I can hardly wait. 6 weeks to go.