usetawuz
Senior Registered
My wife and I were nearing the end of our first day in Rome in March, 2006 and were enjoying the evening sights and crowds around the Trevi Fountain. Together with other tourists there were a large contingent of scotsmen wearing kilts in honor of their team's participation in the Rugby World Cup. Some of them were nearby and we struck up conversation and they immediately began including us in their revelry, which was typefied by excessive amounts of beer that seemed to appear out of nowhere, combined with toasting the health of any and everybody.
The time seemed to fly by and before we knew it it was quite late, or early, actually. We said our goodbyes and began to move in the direction of our hotel somewhere near the Spanish Steps with the intention of obtaining a cab ride...now understood to be a near impossibility at the best of times, much less in the middle of the night. My wife began lamenting our apparent present difficulties and the fact that she couldn't navigate in the best of times, and while I can navigate I couldn't read the map due to the unfortunate confluence of darkness and beer goggles. I did however, get the distinctly warm feeling that I should walk that way...the only direction that felt comfortable and seemed familiar.
I assured my wife that this was the right way...initially to ease her mind, but also because I thought sooner or later I'd recognize some landmark or other. The beer seemed to grant me some level of confidence, as I had never been to Rome before and certainly had not had any time to review maps enough to become familiar with the layout of the city and its landmarks. The beer also reduced my fear of the situation in which we found ourselves, which, in turn allowed me access to what was obviously an unlikely source of assistance.
Our walk was made more difficult by the moonless night and the narrowing of the streets down which I led us. I felt confident despite the occasional tripping over cobble stones and my own feet, however I was having increasing difficulty easing the nerves of my wife. While she had some faith in my ability to get us back to the hotel, the results to that moment were not providing a level of gratification and evidence that would assuage her growing apprehension. I was being treated to an increasing level of nerves bubbling from my wife in the form of laments for our personal security, our irresponsibility, our stupidity, our immaturity and childishness, etc.
She walked with my left arm held in both of hers. Just as she was reaching the limits of her self restraint and was about to insist that we do something other than wander around Rome in the middle of the night, I took a left turn into another dark unnamed street. This was the breaking point. She took advantage of my turn by stepping in front of me both to stop me and face me. She took my face in her hands and pleaded with me to sober up and help her find a way to get help in getting us to our hotel. I was looking over her shoulder and down the street behind her. She responded by holding my cheeks more firmly and giving my head a good shake. Her words flowed out faster than I could understand them and she was truly scared. As her frustration, fear and anger built up to a crescendo, I took her by both shoulders and slowly turned her around to look down the street I had stepped into to show her the hotel's small illuminated sign.
She was elated and her fear evaporated instantly...then her eyes got as big as saucers. She realized that it was too dark to have found our way; I was too intoxicated to have been able to navigate our way across town; I had never been in this city before; I did not know any of the landmarks even if I could have seen them; I found our way from the Trevi Fountain to the Spanish Steps in the dark of a moonless night down streets we had never walked even with a map. Then the words again flowed, except now they were from a sense of wonder; how could you have known?; how could you have done this?; how could you have gotten us back here?
All I could say was that I had a feeling of comfort and familiarity and I followed that direction...if I had allowed fear and unhappiness into the mix I would not have been able to focus on the quiet but consistent feelings of comfort and familiarity that led us to the hotel. It was my wife, a true fundamentalist catholic, if they exist, who said the only way we got back to the hotel that night was because I knew the streets from a former lifetime. I asked why it wasn't because of an angel guiding us, and she said "There were no angels there...you said you knew how to get there and you did! Your steps never varied and you kept plodding along despite my running commentary!"
And with this realization the blocks began to fall into place.
The time seemed to fly by and before we knew it it was quite late, or early, actually. We said our goodbyes and began to move in the direction of our hotel somewhere near the Spanish Steps with the intention of obtaining a cab ride...now understood to be a near impossibility at the best of times, much less in the middle of the night. My wife began lamenting our apparent present difficulties and the fact that she couldn't navigate in the best of times, and while I can navigate I couldn't read the map due to the unfortunate confluence of darkness and beer goggles. I did however, get the distinctly warm feeling that I should walk that way...the only direction that felt comfortable and seemed familiar.
I assured my wife that this was the right way...initially to ease her mind, but also because I thought sooner or later I'd recognize some landmark or other. The beer seemed to grant me some level of confidence, as I had never been to Rome before and certainly had not had any time to review maps enough to become familiar with the layout of the city and its landmarks. The beer also reduced my fear of the situation in which we found ourselves, which, in turn allowed me access to what was obviously an unlikely source of assistance.
Our walk was made more difficult by the moonless night and the narrowing of the streets down which I led us. I felt confident despite the occasional tripping over cobble stones and my own feet, however I was having increasing difficulty easing the nerves of my wife. While she had some faith in my ability to get us back to the hotel, the results to that moment were not providing a level of gratification and evidence that would assuage her growing apprehension. I was being treated to an increasing level of nerves bubbling from my wife in the form of laments for our personal security, our irresponsibility, our stupidity, our immaturity and childishness, etc.
She walked with my left arm held in both of hers. Just as she was reaching the limits of her self restraint and was about to insist that we do something other than wander around Rome in the middle of the night, I took a left turn into another dark unnamed street. This was the breaking point. She took advantage of my turn by stepping in front of me both to stop me and face me. She took my face in her hands and pleaded with me to sober up and help her find a way to get help in getting us to our hotel. I was looking over her shoulder and down the street behind her. She responded by holding my cheeks more firmly and giving my head a good shake. Her words flowed out faster than I could understand them and she was truly scared. As her frustration, fear and anger built up to a crescendo, I took her by both shoulders and slowly turned her around to look down the street I had stepped into to show her the hotel's small illuminated sign.
She was elated and her fear evaporated instantly...then her eyes got as big as saucers. She realized that it was too dark to have found our way; I was too intoxicated to have been able to navigate our way across town; I had never been in this city before; I did not know any of the landmarks even if I could have seen them; I found our way from the Trevi Fountain to the Spanish Steps in the dark of a moonless night down streets we had never walked even with a map. Then the words again flowed, except now they were from a sense of wonder; how could you have known?; how could you have done this?; how could you have gotten us back here?
All I could say was that I had a feeling of comfort and familiarity and I followed that direction...if I had allowed fear and unhappiness into the mix I would not have been able to focus on the quiet but consistent feelings of comfort and familiarity that led us to the hotel. It was my wife, a true fundamentalist catholic, if they exist, who said the only way we got back to the hotel that night was because I knew the streets from a former lifetime. I asked why it wasn't because of an angel guiding us, and she said "There were no angels there...you said you knew how to get there and you did! Your steps never varied and you kept plodding along despite my running commentary!"
And with this realization the blocks began to fall into place.