Loosing Maggie: Florence

Hello friends! You all voted and so I’m kicking off my Thursday night ridiculous travel story with the Loosing Maggie Series and this is part one: Florence, Italy.

Now, for those of you who don’t know, Maggie and I lived in Italy our Junior year of college. We studied abroad with Florida State University and were supposed to leave in late April and just never left. We ended up coming home the last week of July so needless to say we were having a blast.

Our time in Italy was incredible. I met the most incredible Frenchman named Christophe, who we called Frenchie, and we dated pretty much from February through our stay and a little long distance. Frenchie was incredible, he alway came to hang out with us at The Red Garter, our favorite American bar in Florence, cooked dinner with us, and was just down right an angel.

Like any great foreign love affair, we didn’t really speak the same language. His English was pretty good, but for the most part we spoke Italian. So romantic right?! I know, such a great time in life.

So, one night Maggie and I went to meet Frenchie and his friends at The Red Garter. I sat at a hi-top with him and 5 of his friends while Maggie wandered around talking to some of our other friends.

We hadn’t been there long when Maggie tapped me on the shoulder and asked me for the key to our apartment. I was a little shocked that she wanted to leave so early but then again, it was getting late and she could have just been tired.

She seemed fine, I promise, I would never give her the keys to wander home by herself if I thought she was at all inebriated.

I think this is where I should tell you that drunk Maggie in Europe did not like me. She would often yell at me, throw my food away when I wasn’t looking, kick water at me, all with no recollection the next day.

Why? Who knows. She doesn’t even know. But, honestly, if she was a nice drunk this story wouldn’t be as funny so lets continue.

She takes the keys and Frenchie and I continue to play drinking games with his friends for about another hour. By the time midnight rolls around Frenchie walked me back to our apartment. We knocked on the door, rang the door bell, no answer. We rang the door bell again, no answer. I called her phone, no answer. We wondered if she was just so sound asleep she couldn’t hear us? Finally another person came through the door and we were able to get to the apartment, we banged on the door, still no answer.

I was not the crime junkie I am today and so I was not as worried as I should have been. I honestly just wanted to make out with Frenchie but he informed me that we needed to go look for Maggie. He was right but ugh he was so cute you just don’t even know.

We decided that we should check all the bars and clubs we normally go to. We went to Space, The Lions Den, Blob, even some of the more random ones we don’t always go to and there was no sign of her.

Frenchie asked the question you all probably asked when you started reading this: how drunk was she?

I still stand by the fact that she was not that drunk! But I came to find out she kept her composure long enough to evade me so she could leave without me. Sneaky little beast.

We keep walking and end up at the Duomo around 2:30 am a full two hours after we left the apartment.

For reference, this is about a mile away from our apartment. And by this point I think Frenchie and I have both sobered up and are kinda panicking. I haven’t the slightest idea how to continue at this point. And at that point we heard it.

Maggie has a very distinct voice, and an even more distinct laugh. It is kinda higher pitched and fairly loud. And if you’ve never been to Florence, it is all cobble stone so sound really carries. And we heard her laugh!

We found her sitting on the steps on the side of The Duomo with a group of Italian girls. She is repeating over and over “I lost my friends but its ok I made new ones! I like my new friends!” in Italian.

Frenchie starts calling her name and she immediately looks at him with the wide eyes. I honestly think she thought about running but she stopped after the first step away from him.

He got so stern, told her we were going home and she needed to “get her ass over here”

She stomped her foot and said “NO!” she was 23 at the time so this was definitely out of character.

Frenchie takes three long steps towards her, picks her up, throws her over his shoulder and starts walking back towards me.

She starts telling me how much she hates me and how I ruined her fun but she was fast asleep by the time we made it back to the apartment. We put her in bed and were both too exhausted from roaming the streets to even get a kiss goodnight before Frenchie was asleep on the couch and I was left to put Maggie in her PJs.

And that, was the first of many times, I lost Maggie. Next stop: Budapest.