Since I am fairly competent with the public transportation system in Philadelphia, I figured that I would quickly grasp the nuances of the Roman system. However, I was gravely mistaken, and my wallet and sanity can attest to that. When I first got to Termini, the line was extremely long so I tried out one of the quick purchase machines. Worried, I sought the aide of a police officer who was near me to assist me in figuring out the Italian writing on the screen. Graciously, he helped me pick the right train ticket that would lead me to the Fiumicino Airport. After about fifteen minutes on the train, I realized that it was not heading in the proper direction. Sure enough, this train dropped me off at Ciampino, so I was forced to back-track to Termini.
Back at Termini, I refused to press my luck with the machines and decided to excercise my patience and wait in line. Eventually, I purchased the correct ticket, but while waiting I missed the latest train. Finally, I reached my destination of Fiumicino. I was only two hours late for meeting my friend, but she was grateful of my actions. I like to believe that the police officer did not purposely send me to the wrong airport, so I will blame the series of errors on a communication breakdowns.
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