Heading to Italy on Sunday morning.

It hasn’t hit me just yet. I’ve been too busy with everything else to real take in the fact that I’m going to Europe, my first time. Very excited. I’m going to a manufacturing facility north of Milan in a small town called Calico. It’s a “business trip,” for a “yet-to-be-announced” snowboarding equipment company I’ll be handling the design for.

It’s going to be amazing. It’ll be an opportunity to get a ton of things accomplished, get all the projects fleshed out, and a scratch up a clear gameplan to move forward with as we push towards SIA.

And if you don’t think I’ll be eating some sort of cannelloni/panini/spumoni sort of creation at each meal, well, you’ve got another thing coming.

I fly out of Portland, up to Seattle, grab a colleaugue and head all the goddamn way to Milan. Tired arms. 10 hour flight, or something. Yikes. Here’s to good “flight luck” with seating. Hopefully I’m next to folks who don’t mind me snoring if I manage to doze off, taking up “a whole lotta seat” and bouts of nervous fidgeting during takeoff, airtime and landing.

I’m excited. It’s gonna be good. My first time in Europe.

I’ve been practiving the my “Ambassador of Global Good Will” soundbites, for my Italian friends:

“Where’s the American Embassy?!”
“I’m an American citizen. I have rights!”
“Does anyone speak English here?”
“Hey pizzabreath, can you tell me where the nearest McDonald’s is?”

Uh, right.