What begins as a chic business-class flight to Italy (because we’re grown now) quickly devolves into a transatlantic U-turn, a missing suitcase, an Amtrak sprint through Washington, D.C., a possibly intoxicated Uber driver declaring “Ma’am, I’m gonna get you there,” and approximately fourteen emotional breakdowns.

There are trains. There are planes. There is public weeping. There is emergency lingerie purchased at JFK.

And somehow—miraculously—there is also Italy.

This week, Emily recounts the 48-hour odyssey that proves three things:

1. You don’t need that much luggage.
2. Always keep the Xanax.
3. Lean into the chaos. It makes for better stories.

Buckle up. Or don’t. It won’t matter.

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