On our lovely trip to Europe my husband took me to see Vatican city. We went to the museum, we saw the Sistine Chapel, it was beautiful. I loved it… almost. For those of you who have never been to this blog before, I’m not really the reverent type, and I have a real problem considering anything sacred that has more than one gift shop. But the people in Vatican City were the rudest people I have ever met in my life! Never again will I tolerate people saying New Yorkers are rude. The Vatican is the worst!
I’m not talking a little snippy. It is the most packed place I have ever been. We’re talking worse than Disney at Christmas. And there should be some special punishment for people who cut the line at the Vatican. We’re all waiting to see a place that’s supposed to be about love and Jesus, and you cut the line?!
We were waiting to do our pre-entry security check. The line wasn’t even that bad, maybe fifteen minutes, but I watched a middle-aged couple cut the line. I watched them stalk down either side of the line like Velociraptors tracking their pray . The husband stopped ten feet behind the wife, and they both stood calmly in line, waiting. I had seen this act before and pointed out what was about to happen to my husband. And sure enough, cutter husband started looking around confused. Where on earth had his wife gone?
I, of course, was speaking his internal monologue for all the world to hear. “Where did that silly woman go? She must have wandered off. Maybe if I look forward in line.” After two full minutes of fake looking, he spotted his wife and moved up to her, laughing about how he had somehow fallen behind in line. They had practiced, and they were good. It was better than some of the people I’ve seen in the two hours wait for Space Mountain in Disney.
By this time my whole section of the line was listening to my running commentary and critique. Many of them even watched the gentleman joining his wife. That was probably the most exciting thing that has happened to them in the last ten years. I hope their marriage now has something solid to stand on.
We finally got inside the basilica, which was fine. I liked Saint Mark’s better. It was sparkly. And then we decided to climb the 500 some steps to the dome. ‘Cause I like pain or something. We got up to the top, and the people were worse than they were in line. And there were heights and a ledge involved. Granted, there was a railing, but still people, do we need to be pushing this high up?
I was standing waiting for my turn at the railing to look out onto the lovely vista of Rome, and some guy wanted to go to the railing. I said I was waiting my turn. He grunted, and I told him there was a walkway inside the pillars and that he could go there. He shoved through some other people, because waiting is apparently a bigger sin than being a poop head in the Vatican. And then he full on put his elbow on some stranger’s shoulder to take a picture. If I was that lady that dude, or at least his camera, would have been thrown from the roof.
If I ever want to be that pushed and crowded again, I’m going to Disney World. If nothing else Mickey Mouse has much better control of his patrons than Jesus has of his.
Thank you all for the lovely likes and comments while I was gone. It made sitting in an airport in Finland for fourteen hours just a little bit easier.