Once we arrived in Florence, home to Michelangelo’s David, Scudieri, and Brunelleschi’s dome, I realized that this was a city I was going to fall in love with exploring. The feel of this city is much more calming and laid back, which is one reason I have enjoyed my time here so far, so much, until yesterday. Yesterday, I woke up, late of course which is a great to start to any day, and was eager to see Michelangelo’s David. But first, we had to go to the Uffizi. While waiting in line, I realized I had lost my Firenze card and panic set in, because anyone who knows me knows I do not lose things. After embarrassingly telling my professors of my irresponsibility, I had to find a way to get a new Firenze card. In high school I took five years of French, not Italian, so you could imagine my confusion when multiple employees of the museum were giving me directions (different ones may I add) to get a new card. And then the tears came, while asking the impatient (mean!!) ticket lady on how to get a new card. She was very unhappy with me, and began to kinda yell, because 1) I did not understand her and 2) she was frustrated with the information her fellow employees told me. But 89 euros later, I had a new Firenze card and life was good again, so I thought. I returned to the group and was waiting to go through security, when Dr. Permenter and I realized when I got my Firenze card I did not get my entrance ticket. We decided to remain calm and see how far I could get without one. Fortunately, I made it into the build and through security, and even through the first entrance with just my Firenze card, which printed me a ticket receipt. I thought I was in the clear. So I threw everything into my wallet and popped in a piece of gum, deciding to relax and enjoy what was about to come. Once we reached the top of four flights of stairs, we had a second entrance to pass through to get into the actual museum. A second panic began to set in, once the ticket man demanded a ticket I didn’t have. While holding up a the ENTIRE museum entrance, I heard one of my classmates shout “just give him your receipt.” So I reached into my bag for my wallet, when I discovered my ticket receipt for this museum was crumpled and stuck together by the gum I spit into it about three seconds before getting into this line. Major face palm. I frantically yell “help me” to Dr. Permenter. After watching the Italian conversation happening in front of me, which I could not understand, I realized nothing was going to work. Then, Dr. Permenter walked over with another students receipt, handing it to me to use right in front of the ticket man. It worked, how I’m not sure, maybe he didn’t want another conversation with Dr. Permenter or he didn’t want the tears in my eyes to fall a second time, or maybe it was the fact I was holding up hundreds of people trying to get into the museum. My day wasn’t entirely ruined, being able to see the work of Botticelli and Michelangelo, and getting gelato and potato ravioli made all the struggle of the morning worth it.