Day 2: Roaming About Rome

After Mickey & Marcy checked out of the presidential suite (complete with a view overlooking a fountain, a café and a picturesque Roman street) and Auburn & Skeeziks checked out of their walk-in closet (incomplete with a view of the dumpster and the sounds of The Hound of the Baskervilles), we met our tour guide Patrice for a city tour. Though American sounding due to attending high school in the US, Patrice was half-Irish, half-Zimbabwean, attended the American University in Rome and managed cobble-stoned Roman streets in stilettos--- an obvious sign of a capable woman. She took us to the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II, the Teatro Marcellus, the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum, where Constantine’s Arch is also found.

Thanks to Everglade’s warnings, we obtained breastplates and swords and were able to fend off the aggressive vendors encountered at the Colosseum. The Pantheon, however, proved to be a challenge. Originally built as a Roman temple for the ancient gods and later converted to a church for Catholic martyrs and apostles, alarms city-wide began to ring as we approached --danger, Italy, danger! Due to what the Italians are now calling the “Cattivo di Il Vaticano,” Auburn was denied entrance to a second historic, religious monument while Mickey, Marcy and Skeeziks entered, crossed themselves and lit candles for protection against future Auburnesque incidents. We DO hope to return here someday, unimpeded by GPS ankle bracelets and a conga line of monks, priests and abbots.

Moving right along...

Upon boarding, the Circus line’s Nothing-to-Lose vessel, easily identified by its rusty propeller, loose screws, barnacled bottom and humongous size (it IS an American cruise line, after all) we were quickly provided with picture ID cards, a copy of the Geneva Convention and hammocks. Hammocks?! Far from the stateroom we’d expected, we were so far below Steer-age it was ‘Calf-age.’ The Women of Muster Station B, rated XXX (chica, chica bow wow), proved to be in top form though as they danced down towards the rescue drill line… but were still considerably less fashionable in their orange life vests than Mr. Steele and Miss Holt of the Panorama Deck (Level 10, for those keeping score).

The World’s Longest Day Continues…

A thousand apologies, our many followers, but it would seem we entered the mental version of the Bermuda Triangle since embarking on this journey. Only by virtue of the Drink Card and abundant ice cream machines did we escape and are now able to bring you this report. Let's go now to the beginning: Rome.

Despite Auburn's best efforts to get a strip search, the apparent custom in Italy is not to make you go through Customs. Their motto is, "Benvenuti, bring anything you want into our country." No forms, no bag searches, no body checks. Oh well, I'm sure we'll be thoroughly searched by our own government upon our return.
(Upon second thought, the knowing nod Auburn received from the Italian Customs agent may have been an acknowledgement that The Outfit's message regarding a certain 'favor' had been received. There are some things even they don't want to see, but more on that when we get to Sicily.)

Here we break into our narrative to introduce you to our fourth Mouseketeer, “Marcy”. Fresh from the Grand Ole Opry, Marcy the bartender aka stagehand aka parking attendant aka camp counselor, rumored to have seen Elvis naked (before the fat years) fell in with us like yellow on Bobbi Canary.

We now return you to the story at hand.

Hour 72 on no sleep or showers, we traipsed off to the Vatican to view historical works of art, get shushed repeatedly in the Sistine Chapel and pray for Auburn's' depraved soul. Sadly, Auburn was nowhere around by the time we'd located the Pope as parts of the Vatican structure wheezed, buckled, and finally crumbled all around her, effectively cutting her off from her friends and saviors. Damn, centuries of history withstanding earthquakes and wars only to be torn apart by Auburn's depravity. She awoke outside the remaining Vatican walls sprinkled in Holy Water with a neck tag reading, "Return to Hell, Postage Due."

Mickey and Skeeziks, meanwhile, were taking in some local culture. As in purloining. As in steeling. Being an employee of one of the world's largest art and drug smugglers, Mickey should have no problem with getting ‘things’ back into the US. Psst? Does anybody know a good fence for Michelangelo's Pieta or a panel from the Sistine Chapel? Please send comments privately or refer him/her to our listing on eBay.

Feeling an involuntary visit from Morpheus upon us, our first day in Italia came to a snoring close.
**PS Xenos, please check your email for a “transmission of a sensitive nature” from the joint efforts of the Palermo Sisters and the Dark Prince. Jillybean: LALALALALA! Everglade, probe Xenos. And probe her and probe her and probe her. Relentlessly.

Buon Giorno!

Greetings from Rome! (or the airport anyway) We actually landed about a half hour early, which was fortunate as there was a huge line at passport control. However we were able to breeze right through Customs since Skeez (operating on no sleep in the last 40 hours) flirted with the passport agent! We're now waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. Hopefully they'll find us sleeping on these benches....zzzzzzzzzz