Our host at the Concordia Hotel, Roberto is everything that a hotel manager should be.  He is gregarious, generous, knowledgeable, and full of helpful advice.  He and his "night-man" recommended a place to eat that had to be "good and close".  It was more.   Alla Rampa feeds you, and entertains you.   We were getting comfortable with Rome.  Breakfast on the roof was a great way to start the day.

We had experience in the "Open Tour" buses in Paris and took one on Saturday morning, the 51st anniversary of my birth.  The pictures do not do it justice, as they may look beautiful above, the reality was more breath-taking.  We had no desire to stand in lines to see the Sistine Chapel (90 minutes) or any of the other points of interest.  We had trimmed Rome down to 2 days to accommodate Pompeii.  So we went souvenir shopping over near the Trevi Fountain.  We had drinks and munchies and wondered if our coins would bring whatever legend belongs to the coins thrown in the fountain.  

Marsha bought me ties, and the sons-in-law some other things that should bring a chuckle.  There was a mime dressed as a statue that intrigued us.  We rewarded his efforts.  We walked on and looked at the artists' and merchants wares.  I heard Marsha holler "Craig, she took my wallet"  I turned and saw two gypsy girls in front of me as Marsha ran her ass after another that she caught with the help of the artists.  I grabbed the two in front of me from behind around the neck (actually shoulders with enough space to snap their necks with a quick twist of an elbow).  At least 3 or 4, maybe 5 if them and the street artists were surrounding all of us.  Marsha told the one that she had a hold on that she knew she had her wallet.  The girl opened her purse to show that it was empty...amazing grasp of English these children have.  Marsha said we should call the police and I shouted "Policia".   Wonder of wonders occurred....from nowhere, as my elbows worked their way up to the throats of the two I had from behind...Marsha's wallet hit the pavement.  One of the girls that I had a hold of and released, once the contents of Marsha's wallet was confirmed, turned and said something to me.  I am sure that it had nothing to do with next spring's Girl Scout Cookie drive.  And the Flintoid that I am, I replied "F*&^ You, Bi*&^".  

I tried pressing coins into the hands of the artists that had made their escape impossible.  They declined, vehemently  They seem to run their own alleys.  They did not want the police either.  It is bad for business.  They want to sell us products that we find attractive or novel or something that Frank might use around the office while he is trying to look busy.  They want the tourists to feel that it is business, not a rip-off and that they will take care of all the things that their market place needs.  So they took no money, but went right back to work.

"But she breaks up, just like a little girl".  Dylan was right.  After the chaos she broke.  And not for the reasons that one might think.  She was so hurt that they were children, that her "Father Flannigan- No Such Thing As A Bad Child" was shaken.  "But, they were just kids"  she sniffled as we leaned against a wall.  And it is not right, but I would have snapped their necks in a heart-beat, had the need arisen.  As we worked our way back to the hotel, she would stop and slip into her Social Worker mode and figure that these children need the money and maybe we should....  and I reminded her, the die  is cast.  It is a crappy shame.  

I had read of the gypsy-children at the rail station that would steal you blind, and was always on guard.  Marsha had always figured it would be adults.   I don't much trust anyone.  I see a lot of Megan and Sara in their mother, and have to grin, because it is actually a lot of Marsha that I see in Sara and Megan.  The capitalist and the bleeding heart, and it is JUST one coin that is flipped in the air and which ever side lands face up is the one that is played.  All men, do not deny this you wimps, wonder now and again why they ever said "I do" forever to one woman.  I know why I did and would again.  No matter what face comes up on the coin, she is always looking for the pony amongst the horse-shit that life throws our way.  She stepped in it deep and is looking to buy apples to give the ponies a treat.

Remove all doubt to email me.

craig@alldoubtrodgerson.com