All Roads Lead To Rome

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• June 14, 2025

If you’ve taken hopper flights before, you already know, that it’s a smaller plane (in Europe, usually Ryanair) that loads from the parking lot and you have to go up a flight of stairs to get into the plane. When flying from Malta to Sardinia, someone helped me carry my suitcase up and I’m able to go up stairs fine (going down is slower, but I’m still capable) since I had a cane with my broken foot.

But from Sardinia to Rome, it was a different story. Same airline (Ryanair). I sat in the handicapped section ready to board early (one of the few perks of being a cripple) when a woman who worked the desk spoke to me in not the best English…

“How do you expect to get on the plane?”

“Um… I’m going to walk onto it. I just need help with my luggage.”

“How do you expect to get luggage on the plane.”

“Maybe a flight attendant can carry it up.”

“But you can’t do stairs.”

“I can do the stairs,” I tried to mind my tone, but I do not like it when people tell me what I am or am not capable of. Also, I’d been walking around Italy and Malta which are both hilly countries filled with stairs. “I just need help with my suitcase going up and down the stairs.”

She shakes her head, “I don’t know how we do that.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Just ask a flight attendant to carry it.”

“We do not have the authority.”

“What? Then I’ll ask them.”

“You can’t do that.”

“What not? I got here on a Ryanair flight and a flight attendant helped me.”

“It’s not allowed.”

“Okay. Fine. Then I’ll stand at the foot of the stairs and ask a random man to carry it. There are plenty of able bodied men on this flight who will help me carry a bag.”

This seemed to really exasperate her. I could not fathom why this is an issue. C’mon, I’m the one with the broken foot, if anyone should be worried, it should be me and I wasn’t. Some time went by and she returned.

“We fixed the problem.”

“Okay…”

“There is another passenger in a wheel chair. You go with them.”

So I did. And we were taken in a special lift truck that loaded us into the back of the plane. For my return flight home, I was flying Delta, and on the Delta app you can request wheelchair service, which turned out to be great. Not surprisingly, the airport in Rome is huge, just as big as JFK, so it was much appreciated to have wheelchair service, where I whizzed through security and was dropped off at my gate. Especially since, the day before, I had done the Vatican museums which was WAY MORE walking (plus lots of stairs) than I anticipated (16,000 steps), and my foot was killing me the next day.

[Is this a good look for me?]

In Sardinia, I stayed in Cagliari, which is southern Sardinia, and what I would consider “Sardinia on a budget” compared to Northern Sardinia which is considered one of the nicest and most expensive parts of Italy. Cagliari was a little bit of a bust because it was very windy, so my boat tour to the four different supremely beautiful beaches and coves was canceled, which was the main reason I went there. I was also a bit surprised how dirty it was. I’m used to litter in NYC, but generally, I’ve found European cities to take more pride in their homes and keep the streets clean.

[Goddamn stairs.]

Cagliari isn’t a big city, and I covered a lot of it on foot in day, even with my handicap. The coolest thing I did, though, was do a tour in a classic fiat that wove through the narrow streets and up the hills, with the driver narrating the rich history. It just so happened that no one else booked my time slot, so I had a private tour. She even took me to see the Flamingos which isn’t usually part of the tour. Being in that car made you feel like a celebrity as lots of people wanted pictures of the car. It did look super cool, like out of a movie or another time. It probably didn’t hurt that there were two pretty Italian women in the car either.

[They see me rolling…]

One day, I’ll go back to Sardinia to go to the awesome beaches there, but I’ll go to the Northern part, hopefully when I make a lot of money selling a screenplay or if someone with money takes me (haha). It’s not that I didn’t like Cagliari but I covered it all (except the beaches) in three days.

[So. Many. Stairs.]

So off to Rome it was, to finish off my grand trip. I only had a day and a half in Rome, but most people told me that’s all you’ll really need before wanting to get out because it’s crazy crowded. The whole city is packed like Times Square. When I travel, I do my best to travel during tourist low season, or just simply go to more off the beaten path places. By this time in my trip, I sorely regretted doing a solo holiday because my foot injury was making things complicated and also painful. But also, if I was traveling with someone, I’d feel bad about slowing them down or ruining their trip. Though, in reality, I probably did as much as the average tourist. I’m just a New York psycho who moves at a fast pace and likes to do a lot of things.

[When in Rome.]

Anyway. I got to Rome in the morning, but needed to spend half the day working. By afternoon I was done with work and headed right to the Colosseum. It is truly a marvel of human history, and though I’ve seen it a million times in text books or on film, it is utterly jaw dropping and a must see at least once in your life. I didn’t go in the Colosseum because the line was crazy, it was really hot (85 degrees and lacked the sea breeze of the former places I’d been) and didn’t think it was worth it with my foot. Instead, I got a ticket to the ruins next door, which was a lot of intense walking. A number of people complimented my endurance (haha). Though I didn’t book a tour, I often stopped to eavesdrop on tour guides who didn’t say anything to me, I think because of my cane. Rome’s historical significance is second to none, so it’s no wonder so many people are fascinated by the city.

[Roaming in Rome.]

But the crowds are… a lot. And that’s from someone who works in New York City. At least out of Times Square, you have room on the side walks in New York. There simply was none of this in Rome, and I probably will never go back for this reason. That being said, I am glad I went, as it should be a bucket list place for all. I’m also glad no one stepped on my foot. But this is how crowded Rome is… the next day, I couldn’t even get a cab from Rome’s city center to Vatican City (which was a 20 minute drive or 30 minute walk) and ended up walking to the Vatican, drenched in sweat.

[This was the house/castle of the man who killed Sparticus on the Appian Way.]

On my full day in Rome and last day of my trip, I booked a four hour golf cart tour of the Appian Way and catacombs since I was embracing that I was now an elderly person. The Appian Way was a major Roman road built in 312 BC to connect Rome to Brindisi, a port in southeast Italy. It was initially 132 miles long, later extended to 360 miles. The road was built with of stone blocks and lava blocks that are there today. Back then, it is said it was smooth, though now it is very much not smooth. The architecture of everything in Rome, from the aqueducts to the cathedrals, is simply mind-blowing. Though it was conquered and ruled by different powers, it was a Republic for over 1400 years. America really is a baby of a country when put into perspective. We are literally still experiencing growing pains.

After the golf cart tour, I had tickets to the Vatican museums to cut the lines. If you go there, DO THIS. The lines are INSANE. People were waiting for hours and hours and it is relentlessly hot. Even inside the museum is only partially air conditioned and it’s not that cold. Additionally, you have to dress “modestly” inside the Vatican.

[What I wish someone was pushing me on through Rome/Vatican.]

My late Italian grandfather was about as religious as any person can be. In fact, if he were still alive and there was a Biblical trivia, I’d place all my money on him beating the Pope or anyone in the conclave. And anyone who knew him would have done the same. He was notorious for lecturing priests. He was so deeply Catholic, that we were not allowed to wear shorts or tank tops around him after the age of ten or so, otherwise you’d be subjected to a long lecture about sins of the flesh. Yup. That was my grandfather. He was a good man, but a religious zealot, sometimes annoyingly so.

Anyway, I was texting with my Mom who had been to Rome with my Dad on a long Italy trip not long ago. “What am I allowed to wear in the Vatican?” She replied, “your pants or dress should below your knees. No tank tops. Like being around grandpa. You were trained your whole life for this.” Haha, she wasn’t wrong.

So, in addition to the heat, I was wearing long pants. I was wearing a tank top, but bought a shall which I had to cover my shoulders with once I entered the Sistine Chapel. In the Vatican museums, I really wished someone was pushing me in a wheelchair. It was vast. The churches collection of historical artifacts, art and well… straight up wealth, is insane. The museum is along labyrinth of rooms containing pieces of history from every part of the world.

To be honest, I prefer the MET in NYC to the Vatican museums just because the Vatican is packed with people. The MET has a lot of similar treasures of history but not as trafficked and certainly has better AC. But the prize is the Sistine Chapel, which is towards the end. After much walking, lots of it up and down stairs (once I said, “not more goddamn stairs” and made it awkward for everyone “using the lords name in vain”), you get to see Michelangelo’s masterpiece, and there really isn’t a better word for it and most art throughout history should be ashamed to even call itself art in comparison. It is stunningly divine. I was given a seat since I was a cripple and looked up at the heavenly view. You’re not allowed to take pictures so I have none. I don’t think I’ll ever go to the Vatican again (crowds), so I soaked it in, in awe. If you ever wanted to feel bad about how little you’ve accomplished, remember he finished it in four years (much to the pressure of the Pope, but to be fair he had help).

[Whoa, whoa, whoa… none of that in the Vatican!]

I ended up skipping St. Peter’s Square because I was in pain at that point and just walked/hobbled to a restaurant I had picked out (Arlu) which was delicious and then got an Uber back to my hotel. Though I enjoyed my holiday despite my injury, I was very ready to go home to my bed and seek modern medicine in America. I’d maybe go back to Rome to go inside the Coliseum, but otherwise, I’d rather just go to a lot of other parts of Italy.

Humans, I think, crave violence until they have it, then they crave peace. Rome is such a good example of that. Once Rome established peace, they had unrelenting violence as entertainment in the Coliseum where death was cheered. And then at the same time, you have these places of worship that are so supremely beautiful, it does make you feel this sense of a higher power, if that power is nothing else but love. There are no lack of wars today. And we replaced public hangings or gladiators with sports and movies. I love violent movies. I literally write violent movies. But you know it’s play, and the people on screen are fine (and making a bunch of money). I don’t actually like real violence. Hell, I go faint at the sight of real blood.

But our lust for power, our hatred for people or bloodlines that have wronged us, our white knuckles when we’re angry, they are as much human as our inspiration to paint a pristine beach, love to hold each other, and create a better life or world. All roads lead to Rome as much as every flaw and failure and mistake and kisses and hugs and songs played or books written are a road to the core of each and every one of us. Like a painting in the Vatican that depicts Heaven and Hell and everything in between, each of us are all of those things. And every day, we have a choice of what road we want to carve for ourselves, and hope that it is the more righteous roads the people after us will walk down.