If you thought drunken Alex in Rome was an entertaining read, prepare yourselves for drunken Alex in Venice. Like I said before, I never drink; it is a very rare occurrence that you’ll find me sloshed in the corner with an empty glass save for one minuscule drop. However, I’ve managed to achieve a level of tipsy two days in a row, and I’m feeling good. Before I delve into that portion of today’s adventures, let us first begin with our early rise for the train …

At the ripe hour of about 5:00 a.m., six loud Italian humans stumbled around attempting to look presentable for a quick trip to Venice before heading back to Germany. We gathered our belongings – and I slapped on some eyebrows – before we clunked down the steps to await a taxi that would carry us to the train station.

We emerged onto the cobblestone street framed by twinkling lights, and our driver literally seeped out of the midnight oil, scaring us half to death. He smelled of harsh garlic and barely helped us catapult our luggage into the back of the van. After a migraine inducing ride to the station, we gathered our belongings and attempted to find the correct sign. Of course, our train did not have a departure lane yet; so, we walked all the way across the street at the opposite side of the station to grab a quick and convenient breakfast from McDonalds. Quick and convenient, it was not.

Outside of the five-star establishment, a brawl broke out between a few petite Italian women and their sketchy male counterparts. I don’t want to make assumptions, but they appeared to be arguing over and about some sort of illegal activity. It was the perfect altercation for six loud Italian humans to walk through, and my father was livid.

I’ve already alluded to his up-tight stature, but seeing him deal with this particular atmosphere was not all that comforting. And it is no surprise that everything was already starting to go horribly south. Apparently, McDonalds does not serve breakfast food before 7:00 a.m., which makes absolutely no sense, but what do I know. Therefore, our options consisted of crap coffee, orange juice, and French fries. Half of us didn’t even receive our orders because the workers were horribly rude and negated to offer us the items we paid for because the sketch humans causing a ruckus outside were their number one priority. My brother ordered an orange juice and was handed Fanta soda instead, and my chocolate latte was all foam, no brew. Eventually, my father let another expletive fly, and we high-tailed it back across the street to wait for the train, sans acceptable nourishment.

This was also a hot mess of a situation because our train did not receive a departure lane until five minutes before we were to leave. My father was stressing, and we all needed proper nourishment and coffee, which was not an option at that moment in time. Finally, the train was assigned a lane, and we boarded. Now, here is where the story gets mighty interesting.

You see, we had barely slept the night prior. Actually, I had barely slept the night prior because I was writing until about 1:00 a.m., and I was up at about 5:00 a.m. We were beyond exhausted, and of course fate would seat us in the middle of the most annoying group of people I’ve ever witnessed. All we wanted and had planned to do was sleep for the three-hour train ride. This feat was almost entirely impossible because of the rude humans sat all around us.

My sister and I had to listen to obnoxious cackling women as they commented the entire ride about how we were “stupid Americans.” Mind you, none of us – all six of us – spoke for the majority of the ride. We read books and feigned sleep. But, no matter, these women took it upon themselves to make a spectacle and cause a ruckus. My parents sat directly across from a dude duo who laughed and mocked them the entire ride. One was making fun of my mother’s quite fashionable Italian hat, and the other was hysterically and unnecessarily laughing while clearly my parents were trying to nap.

I’ve never wanted to throw a right hook more than I did in that moment. You dedicated readers already know how much I despise rude people; therefore, I was on edge and ready to defend, but we made it through the train ride without an altercation, which is better than the alternative.

We then exited the train, and if you were wondering, I absolutely turned up the passive aggressive channel as we walked to our lovely turd of a van awaiting us in the parking garage. We hopped into the vehicle, and began the journey to Venice. About an hour or so into the drive, we stopped to use the restroom and find nourishment. It goes without saying that we were disappointed.

I’ve noticed that the language barrier becomes an issue only when people make a judgement about us before we even finish our orders. This has happened more than once, and each time we take the incident with a grain of salt, because there is no sense in getting angry and upset - we’ll never see them again. Naturally, the rest stop food was trash, and we booked it out of there and got back on the road.

Finally, we arrived in Venice, and this is where I got irritated to the point of needing a drink. From our parking spot, we probably walked the entire city with all of our heavy luggage in search of our apartment overlooking the water. To put this in perspective, I want you to picture six angry, tired Italian humans trying to take six fully stuffed suitcases and three carry-on suitcases across the city of Venice. Remember, all the streets are cobblestone and uneven, and the city contains various levels; therefore, we had to haul our luggage across the city and up and down steep steps all while trying not to fall into the water.

I was so irritated, and my father kept trying to grab my luggage out of my hand. At one point, I jerked it away from him and hyperextended his knee, he yelled at me like I was a toddler, and we got lost. Eventually, we found our lodging for the night, and at this point, I needed a lot of alcohol. You see, I’m a happy drunk, and my family needed happy and calm Alex after witnessing angry and frustrated Alex in the middle of a foreign city.

Instead of eating more pasta and pizza, we wanted good old fat and greasy American burgers. Obviously, we went to the Hard Rock Café, Venice where we gorged on greasy food and sipped various mixed drinks and sangria. Needless to say, we were tipsy and happy, and had a grand time walking under the city lights, heel clicking, singing, and dancing as we made our way home for the night.

Just a disclaimer, as a family, we rarely drink, but we’re on vacation, and we all needed it. I’m discovering my alcohol palate, and I’m having a blast. Granted, I would prefer better coffee each day, but I’ll never give up my search for the perfect little café in a beautiful European city. While you’re at it, grab your own steaming mug – better yet, drink a hearty cup for me because you and I are going to need it as we continue this trek through foreign lands.