11 Oct 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
10/11 Pompeii, Italy
I rose early to get a head start on the tourists and encountered a thief with a taxi. Once we reached Pompeii he tried to double then rate we agreed on. I wouldn’t give him a dime more so the argument continued until I was imposing on his next victim. A few impolite gestures and more than a few choice works as he sped off. I looked around and noticed I was the only person wandering about the ruins but it was still early in the day, which was kind of a weird feeling. After about an hour or so I saw another individual and then two young men wandered up to me and inquired if I had any hash to sell. A question like that out of the blue made me wonder, do I smell like hash? “What gives you the impression that I would have hash on me?” I asked. Apparently they weren’t narks but rather members of a country band traveling with the USO between US military bases. I got the impression they asked everybody who crossed their path, hoping they might get lucky. They were also circulating news that an Italian cruise ship bound for Israel was hijacked and a ransom was being demanded for the lives of the passengers. Apparently the hijackers had thrown overboard a wheelchair-bound American to demonstrate that they were serious in their demands. At that moment to my surprise, the three girls I had lost in Florence wandered up. It was obvious that one of the three young ladies liked the idea of musicians and those musicians liked the idea of three attractive young ladies. They invited the four of us to see their next concert in an attempt to get closer to the girls. They explained that they were going to be performing at the US military base on the outskirts of Naples. My imagination was heightened by the dying shapes of Pompeii’s residents, evidence that things can change quickly and unexpectedly if the warnings are ignored. As it turned out each group, except for me, was staying in a different area of Naples and taking different forms of transportation back to the city. We agreed to meet later in the evening for dinner after taking showers and cleaning up.
Since I didn’t have a room back in Naples the band members persuaded me to save money and sleep on the floor of their hotel room. I was handed an address, headed back into Naples, sorted out their subway systems and rode it to the end of one of the lines. Already I could tell that my map was a bit off reality but on the positive side I did have an address. It appeared that cabs didn’t service this area and hitching wasn’t going to be much of an option either, so I decided to start the long walk. Just across the way in front of what appeared to be a military facility were a few people hanging out. I asked if one of the gentlemen who I assumed was an American, if he could point out how to get me back on track. Between sentences he decided to just drive me there. I hopped into a car full of baseball hats. We even handed out a few along the way. “You never know when you need friends, especially among strangers”, he said while handing out another hat to the policeman directing traffic from the middle of the intersection. He knew where the hotel was and like the map said, it was right across the street from the military base. I walked past the receptionist and sought out their room. I knocked on the door but had to wait until they could open the door. Once the door was wide enough for me to enter, the cause was evident. They had half of Pompeii spread out across the floor of their room. Besides trying to establish where I would be sleeping I explained that taking stuff from Pompeii wasn’t a good thing and I was sure doing stuff like that could put them in prison. “How are you going to get all that on a plane?” We took ownership of a bottle wine and a small table in the rear of a restaurant just around the corner from the hotel. I was told that their band was scheduled to perform tomorrow night so the girls’ decided to catch up on their sleep and we made plans to reunite the next day around noon in front of the museum.
The national league playoffs were being televised in a bar across the street on the military base so when dinner was finished we wandered across for a beer. We ordered a pitcher and grabbed four seats around a TV set in the corner of the bar. I love the game of the baseball, the design of the ball, its seams. I love the way the ball feels in my hand. The one-on-one aspect of the game is much like poetry. Baseball’s silence is as much an integral part as the action. No other game is like it. Maybe cricket but I have never had the patience to watch a game that took three days to finish. Growing up I was never really a fan for any one team. I mostly followed players on teams I would choose to win that year. There was only one exception. When I first entered little league at about the age of seven I was assigned to the Pirates. Every year our little league team would take a field trip to Dodger stadium to see the Pirates beat the Dodgers. I would always chase down my favorite player Roberto Clemente, to see if he would sign a ball for me. He signed three balls for me over the years but as I grew older they were abused in games of over-the-line or something else along those lines, gone. Only my memory remained.
The bar was almost empty. We kind of had the place to ourselves. Then things abruptly changed. Apparently two aircraft carriers had docked and like cattle they populated the bar. Beer was being opened with such consistency it began to sound like popcorn being made in the distance. Before we knew it they began arguing among themselves. The “A” team is better than the “B” team, “Yes it is”, “No it’s not” and before we knew it a bar fight broke out. Then just as fast as it started the MPs marched in and broke things up. It was like I was sitting on the edges of a movie set. Chairs were flying, MPs swinging clubs and then there we were again, having the bar to ourselves, watching the baseball game in the corner of the bar. The bartender told us that the hijackers on that cruise ship had been apprehended and had actually been brought to this facility, and then they were delivered into the hand of the Italian Secret Police. We ended up the night in the late night showing of a “B” movie in the base’s theater before he headed off to sleep.
I assume it was somewhere around two or three in the morning when we staggered across the street towards sleep. When we were passing the desk clerk he reached out and grabbed me by my collar. “No room, no sleeping here tonight”, he screamed at me. Our argument escalated to the point where it was either about to get physical or we would be dealing with the local authorities, so I was left with no other option but to grab my bags and hit the street. It was too late for local taxi and I knew I had a long walk back to the subway station. I was the only thing moving with exception of controlled burning on the distant hills. When I finally reached the subway station I discovered it had stopped running hours ago and would not resume till around four thirty or five in the morning. Shit, I was tired and really needed some sleep. I noticed just west of the subway station stood a military complex with a guard posted out front. I walked across and asked the guard if he knew where I could get a room for the night. I have walked miles and he was the only soul I had seen. Apparently he didn’t understand English and gestured that I should follow him inside. After passing down a long hallway and through a pair of doors we were confronted by who I assumed was his superior.
He was sharply dressed and confronted my escort the second their eyes meet. I could tell that he was being scolded and told to get back to his post. Then he turned to me and gestured that I should follow him as he pointed down the long hallway. Through one door and then another and I ended up across a desk from a young lady. Dialog in Italian went back and forward between the two then she turned to me. “Do you understand where you are?” she questioned. She quickly answered her own question to inform me. “This is the Italian Secret Police and you are not allowed to be here”. The Italians that had gathered behind me and thought the entire situation was comical. There was an inside joke I was not briefed on. Then the young lady who had explained she was from Kentucky and that I needed to me removed from the facility. After a brief interrogation she interpreted what the group was asking, “Was I was interested in finding a room for the night”. One of the group that had gathered around me began to make a phone call. He was contacting a local whore houses to see if they had an available bed. That escalated the atmosphere into almost a frenzy. “Twenty minutes tops?” was broadcasted over the group and incited more laughter. When I explained that I wasn’t interested in that somebody suggested that I could sleep in one of the cells. But then another guard smiled and said “But we’d have to handcuff you”. That was my signal to go. “No, I think it’s time for me to leave” and on that note I began gesturing towards the door. Across the street I entered the subway station again and tried to go to sleep on one of the benches but no such luck. I was still trying to rid myself of the thought of being handcuffed. I took a short walk searching for a better location and ended back in the subway on the same bench. I worked on some notes I had sketched out earlier while watching the baseball game and spent about an hour or so till my eyes began to get tired. I decided to sleep with my knife available for defense, just in case I needed to scare someone off.
He watched her moves, followed her rounds, from one park to another, he made his move, standing his ground, with an offer like no other. She’d be the one, starting each day, yea, he could give her fame
showed her how fun, when in control of the play, as long as she showed up each game
He showed her his park and told her his plans, told her of glory, with diamond in hand
someday in the future, they’d be the team, making all her reality, seem like a dream
She made her pitches, ball after ball, time he would never quite yield
in each follow through, while her back was still turned, he was still playing the field
She waited not knowing, still questioning when but the reply was still later, she sat down once again
with splinters in hand, she searched through for reasons, wondering why, she was benched for the season
One night in the rain, she cried out for the score, he held up his hand, she was down one to four
and if she disagreed, she could protest the call but there was no guarantees, she could win them at all
They spent time in taking, exchanging their words but he kept on balking and she dodging curves
then she got hot, with heat there belt high, he was caught looking, just questioning why
he tried to defend but missed with all four, she and the diamond, walked, walked right out the door.
