Ava in Italia

Another adventure from the magical city of Venice. This one was not my own but belonged to our fearless group leader, Ashley Hartenstine. Better known as “Cashley” she was the mom of our squad, finance baddie, and the only person capable of keeping our wild TMUI crew from financial ruin.

We had spent our final day in Venice venturing between the colorful islands of Murano and Burano. To close the evening, we boated over to a restaurant on the main island, perched right on the edge of the Adriatic Sea. We had an amazing meal and delicious desserts while we all yapped about the events of the day and our favorite parts of Venice. After watching the sunset over the water, our crew sat there in perfect, golden contentment until we heard a scream. 

“NO! NO! NO! You have got to be KIDDING me right now!”

I jumped to my feet to see what was wrong only to find Ashley leaning over the side of the dock, gazing into the water below. The ring that her boyfriend had given her as a piece of him while they were on opposite sides of the world and oceans apart had snagged on her purse and slipped off her finger into the Venetian depths. 

Our group rushed over to the side of the ocean frantically trying to figure out what to do. I locked eyes with Ryan, our certified diver and Florida Man, and said, “This is all you Big Dawg!” 

Ryan, who had previously refused to even put his pinky toe in Venice’s water like it was nuclear sewage, suddenly grinned like a man possessed. “I already got the approval from Horner.” 

He quickly dove into action to find Ashley’s beloved ring. Dive after dive, Ryan plunged into the murk while the rest of us clutched at our pearls. The waiters at our restaurant scrambled to bring out goggles and Professor Henson whipped out his high-powered flashlight to aid with visibility. Every time Ryan surfaced empty-handed, our hopes sank. I began to think that filming this event was a poor idea. Boats cruised by, tossing our diver like a ragdoll. Onlookers shouted, “È impossibile!” in concerned but broken English.

The flashlight died. The goggles leaker. Ryan had cut his foot and his dives grew longer and slower, no doubt thanks to the colossal quantity of pasta, pizza, and three desserts still sloshing in his stomach. Dr. Horner has decided to finally call it, “Last dive, Ryan.”

Down he went, disappearing into the black void beneath the dock. We waited patiently wondering what the outcome would be. Ashley anxiously gazed down into the water clinging to hope and our group began to silently pray as the mission looked doubtful.

Finally, Ryan emerged to the surface fist first. For an instant, I began to celebrate thinking he was victorious, but there was no ring in sight. Ryan hauled himself out, looking like he might pass out from exhaustion and carb overload. Despite the heroic efforts of our seasoned diver, the ring was lost to the depths. Ashley, ever the mom of the group, composed herself, thanked everyone with a trembling voice, and forced a brave smile. We walked back to the apartment in silence as the once glittering streets of Venice turned cold and unforgiving.

Dr. Horner told Ashley, “It’s fine. Your boyfriend will get you another one.” 

Ouch. The group winced in unison.

Ashley turned aside to call her boyfriend and deliver the dreadful news. The spirits of the group were at an all time low as we shuffled through the now gloomy and mocking streets of Venice. 

Yet even as night pressed on and the weight of the day settled heavy on our shoulders, a quiet spark of hope flickered somewhere in the distance. Somewhere across the ocean, love had a hilarious, stubborn way of refusing to lose, and unbeknownst to us, Italy wasn’t finished with us yet. One last surprise was already waiting for us in Florence.