Chapter 1: From Italy, to America.
“Angelicia! Lascia andare tesoro.” Papa says as I grab my suitcases. My carry-on is strapped to my back as I HAUL ASS downstairs, almost falling 2 times.
“Sissy, slow slow.” Marie says as I almost tumble over. Papa and Dad stand there amused as I pant in the barren living room. The sound of my steps echo throughout the room as I walk down the hall, than I move to the yard. Holding my suitcases as tightly as possible, since these suitcases weigh as much as I do.
10 minutes later were in the car, bulleting down the streets of Italy. I stare intently out of the window as Marie, dad, and papa talk. We are moving to America.
Like, who in their right mind would move to America from Italy, it’s beautiful here? What kind of meth are you on? If it’s anything good, hand over the pipe, amirite?
After thinking about meth for a little bit, I see that we’re at the airport. It’s been a while since I’ve been to America, we went once when I was 5. And it was more of a learning experience than a vacation. I do know English, I am definitely not fluent, but I can understand it and speak it. It just takes a little while to get the words correct.
We stroll into the airport, coming to a stop as we get our passports out of our bags and grab our carry-on’s. After an hour of going through scanners and waiting in lines, we get in the plane. And the chaos starts now.
I sit there, my feet don’t touch the floor of the plane, but that’s not a worry of mine particularly, so I just sit. I decided to sit at the window seat, watching outside the plane as it lifts of the groun. People start to talk and I just sit there, minding my own business. And no one bothers me.
Except for one person.
The child in back of me is kicking my seat so hard I have to hold onto the arms of the seat in order to not fly the hell forward. This kid must play professional soccer cause dat shit hurted.
Yes, in Italy we do have memes.
After 30 minutes of the kid in back of me kicking the spine out of my back, I finally snap. In Spanish.“Oi, pequeña mierda! ¡deja de patear el puto asiento antes de que te patee los dientes!”