I celebrated my 20th birthday on tour in Rimini, Italy, drinking vodka into the small hours of the morning. At 5am my boss announced that I was to travel to St Vincent, in the northwest of Italy to stand-in for a dancer that had fallen ill in another show. At 7am he packed me on to a train. With standing room only, the journey was horrendous, made worse as the sweltering heat and my hangover kicked in. I had two transfers to make, and wouldn't recommend negotiating Milan Central train station with no knowledge of Italian. I got on the wrong train, then fainted, face planting into the squatting toilet at the next station. Twelve hours later I eventually made it to my destination, where I learnt dance routines in a hotel corridor and went on stage that night.