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Is It Too Late Now To Say Sorry? [Sad Stories Part 2]


(credit: Youtube)

You knew a post featuring Justin Bieber was bound to happen. So here it is: A song that perfectly encapsulates the sad story I am about to tell.

 

The year was 2015 and it was the hottest summer that Italy, as an entire nation, had ever faced. (please note that I have absolutely no idea if that is true or not).

It was the second to last day of our week Friendcation, and we were pretty beat. We had already lost one of our friends who needed to catch a flight in a different city to get home, so it was just the three of us. In this story, to keep things intresting, I shall refer to us as Kelly, Michelle, and Beyonce.

Obviously, I am Bey.

I write the blog, so I make the rules.

And also because she is a diva and I wouldn't dare call my friends divas ;)

Now, someone in this post has to be Michelle. It has to happen in order for this giant metaphor to work!

And since this is my friend's very sad story, I must make her the Michelle, because that is how her day went. Nothing went her way, we neglected her feelings, and she felt like the third-most-loved Child of the three.

Anyway, the day started off sluggish. We said Ciao! to our friend leaving for Milan, and hello (also ciao) to a nice low-key day of sightseeing in Vatican City.

Our utmost goals were to travel to the other country (yes, it is considered a separate country), walk around Saint Peter's Square, meet the Pope, and see the Sistine Chapel. Casual.

Everyone was excited. I, Beyonce, was looking forward to potentially getting a glimpse of "da Poe-Pa" (insert our American Italian accents). Kelly was most likely excited for the same thing.

Michelle, however, had one simple request:

- See the Sistine Chapel and Michelangelo's masterpiece

That was all. She didn't want much.

Just like the real Michelle in Destiny's Child probably only wanted just one song where she was the lead.

But alas, that is not how life works out.

You see . . .

In the summer, the line leading into Saint Peter's Basilica /the Sistine Chapel are much like the lines during Christmastime at Target x 1000.

...Not that I am comparing the sacredness of Saint Peter's Basilica to Target...

....but I am.

Anyway, the Square was packed on this particular103 degree day, with the only source of water being two ginormous fountains precariously situated far enough away that I could not casually fake an accidental fall into its cold cold waters (second Justin Bieber reference!) and/or overpriced water bottles sold by men (all of whom ran away at the sound of a secret whistle that signified approaching polizia.... not at all shifty, riiiiight?!)

Anyway, the idea is that it was scorching hot, and the three of us were made to suffer for hours out in the blazing sun.

Current moods: cranky, yet hopeful

It is also important to note at this time that I was wearing a spaghetti-strap dress that is strictly forbidden past security into the Basilica due to dress codes (blah blah blah). Showing shoulders in a sacred place is sacrilege!

But Remember: I am Beyoncé.

So my plan was to buy a shawl at one of the 800 booths leading up to Vatican City... or (since I had ended up neglecting those booths and was already on line) ....my new plan was to buy one near the entry.

Either way, I knew the consequences of not covering your shoulders: Absolutely no entry. Beyonce or not.

As the security guards came into view at Hour 8 (jk)... I could see that they were some serious dudes. They took their jobs seriously. The looked serious. And I was rapidly starting to regret my decision to "wait on the purchase the shawl at a closer booth" tactic.

I also noticed that I was THE only idiot wearing something without sleeves. Heck! It was 103 degrees and people had on sweaters!

So not only did I feel like an idiot... but I also felt like a bad Christian.

With fake confidence and determination, I got up to the security team. Kelly and Michelle got through, no problem. They looked back at me... Queen Bee, who no longer felt like a queen.

"Uh, you need something to wear that covers your shoulders, miss."

said the serious lookin' security officer.

"Who? Me?"

Long story short, I SWORE TO GOD [at the Vatican, no less], that I would IMMEDIATELY buy an overpriced shawl in the gift store and would use my long, flowing locks to cover my devilish shoulders until then.

And somehow, after consulting with an older and wiser security officer, who looked like he had seen it all, I was (begrudgingly)granted permission to go inside.

A true miracle at the Vatican.

Since entering the Basilica took way more time than it should have AND I had to go into the gift shop, run by some mean muggin' nuns, to buy that darn shawl... we were a bit behind on our quest to conquer Vatican City.

(my stylish shawl and I)

The three of us got down to business and decided to go to the top of the Basilica (the dome) first.

Which is where we went wrong.

We climbed all 551 steps masterfully to the top where we were able to take in panoramic views of Rome and see the inside of the Basilica from a cool bird's eye view. Little did we know that as we were descending those ever-loving stairs... the last tour of the Sistine Chapel was being saddled up and taken away toward (quite literally) the holy grail.

(Dose views doe) ...is that how the kids say it these days?

The impending doom, unbeknownst to us at this point, was upon us. We got to the bottom, went to the kiosk, stated our desire to join a tour of the Sistine Chapel, and were simply shot down.

NOOOOOOOOOO.

I was sad and very disappointed in myself for not thinking to do the Sistine Chapel first. Duh!

We were leaving tomorrow and would not have a chance to see one of the most amazing sites in the world, which was currently FEET away.

FEET.

Kelly seemed saddened by this ordeal, as well... but it is not until I turned to Michelle that I felt the true weight of what I had done (or at least contributed to).

I want every reader to know that Michelle is kind. Michelle is smart. Michelle is important.

(The Help, anybody?)

But on that doomed day.... Michelle was MAD.

And rightfully so.

After all . . .

I had wanted to go to my college's local bar in Rome... so, we did it.

Kelly wanted to go into a store that had ties to her place of work... so, we did it.

Michelle had wanted only one thing from us.

And we couldn't do it.

We couldn't manage to get our artistically-inclined best friend in the world to one of the most famous places with one of the most famous pieces of art in the world. Usually located across the ocean, but was now mere FEET away.

It was /is such a big deal to me, that I apologize to Michelle every chance I get.

In fact, for her bridal shower, one of the fun facts that I contributed to the All About the Bride page was:

 

She has said that she has forgiven me.

I do not deserve it.

What I do deserve, however, is to hand over the Queen Bee crown.

I would not have been able to keep it together like Michelle did on that day.

I wear my emotions right on my sleeve. Both sleeves, if we are being honest.

Not Michelle.

Yes, she was mad for a hot second, but she rallied, hung out with us the rest of the day, and even ate dinner at an awesome outdoor piazza and laughed.

How does the saying go... we laugh so as to keep from crying?

Maybe.

Or we laughed and enjoyed that evening, putting the past behind us because we knew our vacation was coming to an end. And although sometimes things go awry.... at least we were on that vacation with each other.

Hate to sound corny, but it is true.

Once again (as most stories are in this blog).... it is a memory that I will never forget: pre-Sistine Chapel, missing the Sistine Chapel, and most importantly: post- Sistine Chapel

Traveling is quite the adventure... and believe it or not ... Michelle .... I mean, the true Beyonce... is going on the next Friendcation this summer.

And here is my promise: WE WILL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT

Until then,

<3 <3 <3

Skål xx

 

Also, if you missed Sad Stories, Part 1 - click here

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