The Adventures of Tintin - The Secret of the Vivace Code [EDITING]

Chapter 10 - Problmatic Transportation

Good God, I hate aeroplanes. Who'd of thought that I , Elizabeth Brown, would be terrified of leaving the ground. I always though that flying would be a magical experience, I was very much mistaken.

I genuinely think I might die up here in this stupid metal bird, or maybe I'm already dead and I'm flying up to heaven? Can't be, this feels more like a trip to hell for a long list of reasons. At the top of this list is that the man situated directly behind our row is snoring ridiculously loudly, I'd guess each snore is a solid 105 decibels at the least. I wonder if my nostrils would implode if every time I inhaled I made that sound? I bury my head in my hands and focus on breathing deeply. Tintin notices my, let's say, slight stress:

"Here," he whispers, handing me something. "Breathe into this."

I take the thing out of his hands and realise it's a paper bag, "Thank you."

This is quite possibly the most embarrassing thing that's happened to me to date.

Hopefully we'll land soon. Please, for heavens sake let it be over soon!

-

When the plane doors open I grab my stuff and get my sorry arse out of there as soon as humanly possible.
Due to my high stress levels and the intense heat I start to feel a little dizzy, when we reach the actual airport Captain Haddock offers to hold my back pack as I sip some water. Mortifying.

Soon after we locate our suitcases and exit the airport to hail a cab into Rome. The pick up stations are packed full of tourists and business men, we push through the masses of people to one of the only empty vehicles in the car park.

"Excuse me, Sir? Can you take us to Anzio?" Tintin asks the supposed driver, a stubby looking man with a large moustache. He bobs his head in reply and gets straight into the driver's seat. How rude, I'd of thought that he'd help with the luggage.

It quickly becomes apparent that our selected driver was the only one available as he was completely and utterly insane. The entire journey is becoming a bit of a blur to be honest. I swear he's drunk, or maybe this is just Italian drivers? Either way the guy is all over the road and I'm sure he had broken indicators and that's not the only thing. In a a effort the distract from the feeling of my stomach churning in terror I check off everything wrong I see with the taxi in my head:

Indicators - broken.

Windscreen wipers - there aren't any?

Wheel - only turns a couple of degrees to the left.

Wing mirrors - only one.

Headlights - right one flickers even when turned off.

Let's just say I'm a smidge uncomfortable in this car. Tintin keeps putting his head in his hands and gritting his teeth every time we turn left, at one point I catch him in the single wing mirror mouthing "help me" as the driver swears loudly at a police car.

Thankfully the drive to the hotel is short (due only to the ridiculous speed at which we drive) and we arrive there in less than an hour. It's a quaint little place in the coastal town of Anzio.

There's a small garden full of roses that is not dissimilar to that of Marlinspike, cafe where several couples are sat speaking rapid Italian and a group of young boys are playing football on the street.

We check in and find that our rooms are next to each other and each have a little balcony looking over the street. As soon as I enter my room I plonk my bag on my bed and start to unpack, it shouldn't take too long -

Someone knocks on my door so I amble over and unlock it.

"Hello," Tintin says cheerily once I swing the door open, "the Captain and I are going to the bar, are you coming?"

"Of course!" I reply, "I think I'll change first and meet you down there," I say, there is no way I'm going to the bar like this.

I must admit I have sweated a considerable amount since getting on the plane so wearing this blouse is not an option. God knows what I'm going to put on.

Eventually I decide on my blue blouse and hurry down the stairs to join Captain Haddock and Tintin. The bar and restaurant is simply adorable with little candles and a small bunch of yellow flowers on each of the dainty tables. We are seated by a large woman that speaks little English named Maria. Well I say she speaks little English but I'm ninety percent sure that she's putting it on and laughing at us when we have to act out what we want to order.

By the end of the evening the Captain has had one to many glasses of whiskey and has to be carried by Tintin and I up the two flights of stairs to his room. Upon arrival he vomits.

"Charming," I say wrinkling my nose in disgust.

"Indeed," says Tintin quietly. "Do we clean that up or..."

"No, no. I think we should leave that to someone else,"

"Are you sure?"

"Well if you really want to then be my guest but don't expect me to help you. I'll fetch a maid in a moment."

The stench of the alcohol infused puke makes me wretch.

"In fact," I say, "I'll fetch a maid and I'll give her a big tip too. This is rank."

He laughs and nods. "Fine, we'll leave it to whichever poor soul is working. Goodnight Elizabeth."

"Goodnight Tintin." I say, still gipping slightly.