Solo Travel Struggles: a Meltdown at the Florence Airport

In talking with many of you, I’ve realized that solo travel makes a lot of people anxious. I usually feel pretty comfortable traveling on my own, and I’m not sure if that’s because I’m brave or stupid! Maybe a little of both. However, I did recently have an anxiety-ridden airport meltdown, and I thought I’d share that here! I think the more we can read about other’s recommendations and experiences with travel, the more we can get excited and also conquer fears of the unknown.

2:54 PM. After a fun 5 days in Florence, I’d been sitting in the Florence Airport for over four hours, with another six to go. On my taxi ride to the airport, I’d received a text saying that the second of my three flights from Florence to Birmingham, England, had been canceled, and they’d let me know my options shortly.

I had always been such an optimistic and enthusiastic traveler, but I noticed unfamiliar feelings of fear and being all alone.  I had so many flights and places booked! What would I do!?

I had just left my sprained-ankled friend that morning in Florence and was on my way to stay with friends in England. But somehow, stranded at the tiny Florence Airport, I felt like I might as well have been on a lunar lander. Sure, I could text with my friends and family or even talk to them on the phone, as if I’d do that!  But there was no one going through the minutia of passing time in the airport with me…People watching and quietly snarking and laughing about them.  Double-checking the flight times and researching other possibilities to consider.  Heck, I had so much time I could have found someplace to leave my bags and gone to see more of Florence.  But being there on my own at that moment, that was the farthest thing from my mind.

For hours, I’d sat in the cafe / bar, had a coffee, then eaten lunch, and had two glasses of mediocre Chardonnay.  For the two weeks I’d been in Italy so far, I’d noticed and accepted the cultural differences in customer service compared to the US standards.  The Italians will give you the food or ring up your purchase, but don’t expect a smile, chit chat, or any semblance of “have a nice day.”The barista at the airport was no exception to this.  I realized I was craving some good old-fashioned American fake niceness!  What I’d do to have someone give me a convincing fake smile while wishing me “a safe flight and a great rest of your trip!”

Now, no one was even texting me back! I was truly alone. No one cares about me. Oh… it was now after midnight at home, but still!!

I worked some more on a blog post about my wonderful recent time in Rome.  Then I faced the dreaded fact that I had to go pee.

But I had no one to watch my luggage while I went to the bathroom. I couldn’t check my large suitcase until 3 hours before my flight time, so I was stuck in the Siberia of the pre-security screening area.  Moving in a mass anywhere I went with my giant suitcase on wheels, a cute smaller carry-on suitcase on wheels, a clunky backpack with my computer and all essentials, a sweatshirt and my purse. 

Aren’t I supposed to be a great, experienced traveler?  Why do I have so much crap I’m carrying around? I’d written a blog post about how to pack for a month in Europe! Was I nuts? I knew I needed to write a follow-up post to say how it really went! And what is with my lame, pathetic, anxious, alone feelings?

As my luggage and I convoyed towards the bathroom, I noticed a woman about my age coming toward me with her own flock of luggage. She looked like a stern old-timey school marm—a German one. I slowed down as our luggage herds came closer through a narrow space. She didn’t slow but knocked one of her suitcases hard into mine. I instinctively blurted out my typical, nice, American girl, “Oh, I’m sorry!” She scowled at me and kept going. What the hell!?

I felt actual tears filling my eyes and looked up and blinked to make them go away.  I gave into it.  Big fat tears rolled down my makeup-less cheeks.  I even let a sob or two escape.  No one knows me here, and certainly no one cares!

I entered the bathroom with my whole mass of belongings with me, then played Tetris with the luggage to fit it into the tiny bathroom stall allowing room for the door to close. Eventually I got everything inside the stall, then squeezed through the opening I’d left in the door and climbed over the luggage to sit on the left side of the toilet.  Thank God there was toilet paper!

I probably should have just left the big suitcase outside.  Who needs clothes when you’re all alone in a lunar lander? No one cares what I’m wearing!

I felt myself descending into adolescent thoughts, “No one really cares about me at all”! 

I managed to get myself and all the luggage out of the tiny stall and force my way to the sinks to wash my hands. I glanced at myself in the mirror and realized I looked younger! The minimal makeup I’d put on earlier had been either sweated or cried off, and I had a kind of lost and sad look on my face. I enjoyed this dramatic observation for a minute. Hey, I looked younger! Sad but young!

I tearfully made my way back toward a cluster of chairs lined up in the center of the lobby, like the DMV.  I plopped down in a seat with my luggage surrounding me like a barricade.  Then I noticed a young woman sitting a few seats down from me, in the midst of her own luggage fortress.  She was trying to get my attention.  Oh, someone does care!  She’s checking to see if I’m ok!  I looked at her gratefully.  She didn’t speak English but indicated she wanted to go to the coffee bar and wanted me to look after her luggage.  OK, she wasn’t checking on me, but still, this was some humanity!  Two lone travelers looking out for each other.  The shared bond we solo travelers have… women having each other’s backs!  I nodded and smiled.

This calmed me down and I wiped away my tears and felt a little of my positive attitude return.  I kept my eyes on her luggage, and no one came near it in the two minutes she was gone. I watched her come back.  I searched her hands; maybe she bought me a candy bar or a box of mints to thank me and cheer me up!  But no, she just had her coffee, sat down without looking my way, then called someone on her phone and blabbed away in another language.

Cue my tears again!  Little tears this time.  But, quickly, I ran out of steam for my pity party.  I decided to find a new location and leave the bad memories of the downstairs part of Florence Airport behind me!  I went upstairs to wait out the time till I could check my suitcase and get through security.

This change of scenery did the trick to shift me out of my dismal mood.  I found a spot against a wall on the nice cool tile floor, and composed a long text (with pictures of my sad face) telling my friends about my ill fated day so far.  Somehow, writing it out gave me some perspective and I was able to actually laugh at the long forgotten reappearance of my moody 13 year old self.

I’m not sure exactly why I spiraled into this pit of self-pity and woe is me feelings. Maybe it was just fatigue, plus uncertainty of how I’d handle the rest of my day, and the next few days? Whatever the cause I tried to go easy on myself and just accept the feelings.

I’d love to hear about any solo travel melt downs you’ve had and if you have any tips on how to handle it! Thanks for reading!