An Unexpected Detour

I was supposed to be nearly home by now. Instead, I'm still in Rome. As I understand it, this is what happened: (keep in mind this is all hearsay) Yesterday, a flight from Rome to New York was canceled because a tire on the plane was damaged. Some of the passengers were rebooked on flights to other destinations in the US, but most of them were sent to a hotel, and rebooked on my flight to Detroit. Then one of three things went wrong: 1. It was Sunday and you can't get new tires in Italy on a Sunday, 2. A new tire was flown in from somewhere else but somehow wasn't acceptable, 3. A second tire was sent by truck from Amsterdam, but when it arrived, it was not the right type of tire. I'm not sure how many of these are true, but one way or another, my flight had no tire, and it was canceled. Some of the passengers from yesterday's flight to New York were put back on the bus to spend another night in a hotel. Rumor has it that some passengers are actually spending their third night in a hotel, but I haven't actually talked to any of them.
Since I found myself stuck in several different lines with this group of people, I began talking to them. I learned some important things: 1. The hotel is within a 10 minute walk of the beach, 2. Wine is free at dinner, and 3. Delta is probably going to have to compensate us for their incompetence. I talked to so many people that by the time I ate dinner (paid for by Delta) three people waved to me as they walked by my table. I guess I'm just a friendly person, and after a week in a foreign country all by myself I was dying to talk to anyone who speaks English as a first language. I am happy to report that although everyone was very annoyed at Delta, we all behaved quite politely toward each other.
The hotel's not the best, but it really is a 10 minute walk to the beach. I was hesitant to appear outside in my swimsuit, since after a month without a razor, my legs and armpits are looking very European. But I figured, I'll never see these people again, and I don't know how to say "look at those hairy armpits!" in Italian, so I wouldn't know if they were talking about me anyway.
The water was magnificent. I am usually against going to the beach in Europe. I feel that on a short vacation, time spent on the beach is time wasted, since the beach is the same everywhere and culture is not. However, when my flight is canceled and rebooked for the next day, I deserve to go to the beach.
On my way back from the beach, I had the best gelato I have ever had in my entire life. I think it is the combination of salty hair, sandy toes, and mild sunburn, but it made the gelato taste wonderful! I got watermelon gelato, expecting a sort of jolly-rancher watermelon flavor. Instead, it was cool and sweet, the perfect thing to eat after coming out of the ocean. For that one moment, I forgot all about canceled flights and messed-up tires. I was in heaven!
I didn't take any pictures at the beach because I didn't bring my camera for fear it would be stolen while I was in the water. Just imagine the blue skies, sunshine, sand, and beach umbrellas.
Here's a picture of Ostia Beach from Wikipedia, but it was far less crowded today.

Also, in case you were wondering, Italian men seem to have embraced US-style swimsuits. I saw very few speedos. Hopefully the rest of the world will catch on to this trend and I won't ever have to see another speedo worn by anyone other than an olympic athelete. Because seriously, if you're not an olympic athelete, you shouldn't be wearing a speedo.