A Long Trip To Somewhere

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• May 24, 2025

There is always a line at Starbucks in the airport, which I never really fully understand. I mean, I’m a tea drinker anyway, but I never want to be caffeinated on the airplane. In fact, I want to be so subdued, that if the plane went down, I would only know post crash. And it’s not because I’m afraid of flying. Heights don’t bother me as much as the idea of small talk to a person next to me. Sleeping on planes feels a bit like time travel. You just skip the worst part of traveling.

Some people hate flying or traveling so much, they deprive themselves of one of the best things in life— exploring foreign places. I can’t tell you how many people have told me they don’t want to go to Hawaii because the flight is too long. Yes. It’s a long flight. But it is so worth it. If Hawaii was a person, it would be Chris Hemsworth or Charlize Theron. Would you not fly for ten hours to spend time with them?

The flight to Italy is almost as long as the trip to Hawaii from New York. For as long as I could remember, I wanted to go to Italy. And not just because I’m half Italian. Of course my heritage adds to the allure of Italy’s rich history, culture and having the best food around. Everyone who goes to Italy loves it. It’s topped my travel list forever, and I’ve finally decided, “fuck it, I’m going.” There are a great number of places I want to see in Italy, and I hope to travel there multiple times as the only way it would be possible to see it all in one trip would be to stay there for at least two months. Which I would happily do if I had the funds to do so.

Many great thinkers and writers have turned travel into philosophy as the experience of adventuring new places, dining overseas cuisine and drinking with strangers turned friends from other worlds feels like living itself. And let’s face it. Europeans are better than this than Americans who get caught up in the rat race of consumer living. Though the freedom of being a little free bird is not exactly free. The cost of travel aside, I don’t really have savings and live by the seams of my ripping pants.

New York is not only known for its Italian population, but Italians, have added to very culture that everyone knows. Family oriented, on the loud and opinionated side, respectful of tradition, and even more respectful of amazing food. Our negative stereotypes also carry weight. Like that Italians can be dramatic, as if life were an Opera. Overbearing mothers breed guilt. Catholic guilt breeds more guilt. The men can be more vain and shallow than the women. We’re one of the last cultures everyone can make fun of without being canceled. This just means we have a good sense of humor (I think).

My Italian side of the family will overfeed you and give you the shirt off their backs. The more religious ones will perpetually remind you how Jesus died for your sins. And that the world is a sinful place. And to warn you about succumbing to temptations (usually sex related). Don’t ever forget about your sins. Wear a cross around your neck to be perpetually reminded about sin and hell.

In many ways, they aren’t really wrong. The world is full of, if not, built on sin. The powerful have almost always built their wealth on taking advantage of others. I’m unsure what the statute of limitations is on this. I don’t feel personal guilt that the Romans sentenced Jesus to the cross, or that Christopher Columbus was awful to the indigenous Native Americans. I don’t feel good about it to be clear, but I just don’t think we need to carry the weight of humanities wrong doings forever when it was so long ago and the history is past we cannot rewrite. Learn from it, move on, and be better.

I know my family who immigrated here were poor and worked really hard to provide for their families and make a better life for each generation. Without knowing even that much about them, I’m sure they made plenty of mistakes. But I also know for sure they gathered on holidays and hugged and kissed their loved ones and tried to be good humans and live happily. I think, sometimes, that knowing how much our ancestors struggled is a good reason to go enjoy your life in a way they could have never imagined. They didn’t have the world access, or a gps in their pocket, or even running hot water. Why wouldn’t we take advantage of a lifestyle once only available to extremely wealthy?

Not knowing when this all ends or how, is it such a sin to say, “yeah, I flew every chance I got. I ate royally and drank too much. I danced under the stars of different hemispheres because I could.” Or would it be a sin not to? I say, take the long trip to somewhere. You don’t have to be somebody to do so. And that, my friends, is modern miracle.