Jetting off to Europe

I am going to scream. I am going to cry. I am going to jump so high that I will break through the stratosphere and get pulled into orbit.
This week, this glorious week, is the last week of street hockey. That is absolutely the best news to reach my ears since the invention of electric pencil sharpeners. And even better, it's been raining constantly since Sunday, so we've been inside the locker rooms engaging in "relay races" on "mini-scooters." It's not exactly the greatest way to spend my day (yeah that rhymed, hey hey hey) but it is two thousand and fifty-four times better than dashing about in aimless loops and twists, whacking pucks around with plastic sticks.
Even happier news is... I'M GOING TO EUROPE THIS SUMMER!!! We just got done with all the payments and such, and I am due to depart the Wednesday after school lets out! It's a school trip that is being led by Mrs. Kalman, my most very beloved former teacher. Plus, two of my friends are coming with me as we Eurostar our way from France to London to Rome to Athens to Lucerne. I must admit, however, that my excitement isn't quite as great as the three exclamation points after the first sentence in this paragraph might suggest. The truth is, it's expensive. I have been saving up all year in an attempt to make a dent in the cost. For a while earlier in the year, I figured I probably wouldn't be able to go in the end. The concept of jetting off so far away from home was already impossible, and the hefty price only amplified the fact that a trip to Europe was merely a distant dream. But then something happened, and I am not quite sure what. I am naive in the ways of the stock market, but somehow my dad completed some tricky maneuver that confused the stocks into giving him a bunch of money. With this surplus, we could either stow it away for later or pay for, I don't know, a big trip for the young'un of the family. The price is all locked in. I am absolutely going. I am going to climb up into the Colosseum and scream my name from the top of the Eiffel Tower. I am going to stand directly under the dome of the Cathedral of Florence and St. Peter's Basilica. My very own eyeballs will gaze at the Mona Lisa, not a picture of her or a reproduction of her.
Never in my life have I set foot outside of the United States, except for once to Mexico. However, that hardly counts since it's all attached and everything. Let's say I've never set foot outside of this continent, and I am itching to get out of this chokingly American, stuffily confined space.
It's twenty days long. I am already planning out the monster blog entry that I will write when I return. Au revoir, addio, and αντίο!