I was stranded in Italy at night in God knows where with no money and my phone was on low battery. I was on the side of a narrow, dirt road. There was only a community of homeless people surrounding me and I certainly didn’t feel anything but hopeless and fearful. I bet you’re wondering how I got here. Let’s rewind.

It was the morning my flight landed in MXP. The customs and immigration process took way too long, but that’s expected. Once I took the AirTrain from MXP to the city of Milan, it took me 2 hours to hail a cab in 100-degree heat, wearing a full black sweatsuit. Once I arrived at what I thought was a five-star hotel provided by my job, it was the complete opposite–it was a hostel. Now, I understand putting me up in a motel, but a hostel is a different type of disrespect. Moving on, I tried to make the best of it and was open to this living situation. The hostel was not terrible; they had their kitchen, bar, and lounge and fresh pasta made every night. My room overlooked a balcony and it seemed I wasn’t rooming with total strangers, but my other coworkers. And get this–eight to a room with a single bathroom. 

After I unpacked whatever I could with the little space provided by my bunk bed…I headed down to ask the bar where the main attractive points are as well as any bars, restaurants, etc in the city. 

They handed me a flyer with attractions on it with pins all over the city and I decided to go to the closest ones near me. 

After I’ve exhausted whatever walking I could do, I realized it was getting late and I’d wasted a lot of my money. I tried to hail a cab with the money I had left. Once inside, I realized I forgot the address to my hostel, but I remembered the name. The driver nodded once I told him the name and I was so exhausted I didn’t notice that he went the wrong way and took me to a completely different hostel on the other side of the city,  around the countryside (which I didn’t know at the time, I’d thought this man was sent to kidnap me and I was in the dreaded “Taken” situation I’d always feared.) 

When I realized I was in the wrong place, he didn’t understand my English and immediately, I was thrown out and kicked onto the dirt path aforementioned. 

After giving up and accepting my fate of being newly homeless, I sat on the side of the dirt road, left with only my thoughts and the babbling of the homeless people around me. I’d been sitting for 20 minutes before a homeless man wearing a rainbow unicorn sweater with red dusty sweatpants approached me and sat in front of me with the largest grin on his extremely hairy face.

Oh god. This is exactly where I pictured my death would be, by the hands of a rainbow unicorn enthusiast, by the ripe age of 18. I couldn’t think of a better way to go out.

After a long silence of him solely staring at me, I blurted out, “I don’t have any money on me so if you’re here to kill me, I just ask you do it swiftly, please.”

He didn’t say a word, he simply got up and left me alone and I sat there again for 20 more minutes and this time after seeing that man’s sweater, the only thing I could think about was how I’d kill to see an episode of My Little Pony just one last time. 

Next thing I knew, the very same homeless man, who I later found out went by the name Harold, had driven up to me in a shiny, new, vintage Pontiac. I’d initially guessed he stole it, but I surely didn’t express that upon first glance. 

In the end, Harold offered me a ride and I quite literally had no other choice but to get in and hope for the best. 

Harold was also from New York like me, and he was on vacation at his country home near the dirt trail and likes to hang around that community of homeless men because it fascinated him (which I still question to this day). He offered for me to stay at his country home but I denied, and he dropped me at my very crappy hostel. I never saw Harold again, and immediately purchased a portable charger which I never went outside without it in my possession ever again.