Get Me Out of Brindisi, Pleasie: Honeymoon of the Damned, Part Two

It was 7 am and Staci and I were stuck in a bleak train terminal in a place called Brindisi, which I'm now certain is Italian for "you don't want to be here."

We didn't plan to get off the train in Brindisi.  That was determined by the other four passengers in our six-passenger train cabin out of Venice.  Three of them smoked the entire train ride.  That was too bad because none of them were seated by the window, so all the smoke had to first be filtered through my lungs.

I was bummed about...