Magic Love

INT. TONY'S APARTMENT - STUDIO. SLIGHTLY DIRTY. DANCE POSTERS COVER THE WALLS. WITH A HUGE POSTER OF MICHAEL JACKSON. 

James is laying on the couch playing with the cat. Tony is sort of bouncing up and down in the middle of the room.

Angela busts in the door. 

TONY

Angela, girl, why you so late?? The show starts in an hour!! 

ANGELA

Ton, don't even start. Plus you know they'll have some bullshit opening act. 

Angela tosses a bag of drugs at James who is still laying on the couch. 

ANGELA

James! Cheer up! It's your favorite!

James sitting up. Cat still on lap. 

JAMES

It's about fucking time! 40 minutes late! 

ANGELA 

You princess!

TONY

Yeah, suck it up yah lil bitch! 

James starts to smirk. Still petting cat. Looks up quickly.

TONY

(serious)

He loves it when I call him a lil bitch. 

ANGELA

(towards James, laughing)

It's because he is a lil bitch

Angela winks at James. 

JAMES

All right, all right. 

They all start collecting their things. Walking out of the apartment, Angela, smacks James on the butt. 

ANGELA

(quietly)

Lil bitch. 

James turns around and smirks. 

EXT. THE THREE HEAD INTO NYC ON AN EMPTY COMPARTMENT OF THE TRAIN. CAMERA SHOTS OF JAMES, AND TONY TAKING ECSTASY, "ABOUT A GIRL" BY NIRVANA PLAYS.

INT. BAR AT THE VENUE 

JAMES

Okay, vodka for the both of you? 

TONY

Honey, it's a tequila sort of night.

ANGELA

I'm good for now. 

James walks away from the table, and goes to get Tony, and himself a drink. 

TONY

You okay, girl? It's time to get down! You took your share of the E, right?

ANGELA

Oh yeah yeah, just want to wait on the drinks for now

TONY

(reassuringly)

Okay, okay. 

James comes walking back.. (80s electronica starts playing), the show is about to start, and they head to the dance floor. 

Tony starts snapping with his arms in the air, struts to the dance floor.

TONY

YAAAAS!

INT. DANCE FLOOR. PRETTY CROWDED. 

The group Magic Love is up on stage, playing their 80s electronica (yet, "Limousine" by Class Actress plays). Tony, Angela, and James are dancing ridiculously, almost jokingly in slow motion. The neon lights become brighter. The camera shows James, and Tony taking more ecstasy, but not Angela. Angela moves closer to James. Tony starts dancing with a guy, they become close, then kiss long. The camera shifts to Angela, and James looking right into each other, his arms on her hips, and her arms around his neck, dancing closely in sync. Their faces get closer, and they kiss long and passionately, Angela then breaks away and runs quickly towards the bathroom. She then kicks a wallet then finds it on the ground and picks it up. She gets into the bathroom and shuts a stall door behind herself.

INT. DIRTY CLUB BATHROOM. THERE ARE 3 OTHER GIRLS IN THE BATHROOM DOING LINES OF COKE, PUTTING ON MORE MAKEUP, AND SMOKING CIGARETTES. THEY MAKE NO NOTICE OF ANGELA.

Bathroom Girl #1 does line of blow off of sink

BATHROOM GIRL #1

Ey, MirandAAAH you got a ciggeey?

BATHROOM GIRL #2

Girl, yeeAH, I gottA smoke..

Angela sits down on the toilet, opens the wallet, counts 450$ Closes the wallet, then lights, and smokes a cigarette. Starts to slowly cry. 

BATHROOM GIRL #3

Fawk, my hoohaw is on fuckin fiyah, Jimmy was all up in it this mawnin. He gets so frisky in the mawnin. 

Bathroom Girl #3 does a line of blow off of the sink.  

BATHROOM GIRL #2

Jossey, hon, yous lucky thats yah only worray. I be fuckin late nearly a gaddamn week and a haff! 

BATHROOM GIRL #1 

Whaaaaat, Adrainaaaa? The fawk now?

BATHROOM GIRL #2

Shit I dunno, I am scared, buh I know Giovanni is my love, like I wanna murry heem, but he can be such a doofis

BATHROOM GIRL #3

Ey but he so cute! With them arms!

BATHROOM GIRL #1

(laughing)

But he is like half retahded! 

Angela busts out of the bathroom stall, and quickly walks through the dance floor (towards the exit) still smoking her cigarette. James notices, and grabs Tony to follow her. James starts yelling at her, and running towards her. Tony follows behind. Angela gets to the outside of the club to a dark city street. Starts walking down the sidewalk away from the club. 

EXT. DARK NYC STREET. NOT TOO MANY PEOPLE AROUND. 

James runs down Angela, and grabs her by the arm, and Tony is running towards them. 

JAMES

What the hell was that?

ANGELA

          Nothing! Fucking nothing! 

Tony is now catching up, slightly out of breath. Clearly drunk/high.

TONY

Girrrl! Honeeey! Is you having a bad triip? 

ANGELA

I didn't take any!

JAMES

Why? 

Tony lights a cigarette. 

TONY

This shit has got me feeling some sorta way (laughs)

Angela sits down on the curb and puts her head in hands. James, and Tony sit down with her. 

ANGELA 

You guys just go back in and have a good time, I'll stay out here. 

James puts his arm around Angela. 

JAMES 

We're not leaving you out here on the street, the hell? 

TONY

YeeeAH, plus, daddy needs the air.  (waves arms in wafting motion) 

ANGELA

I'm gonna stay the night in the city. 

TONY

Like hell you are girl! Without us?

ANGELA

I have to take care of some things, it's personal, guys. 

JAMES

We're all friends Ang, what is going on? 

ANGELA

We're friends James? Do friends fuck their friends and get their friends pregnant James? You delinquent! 

Angela stands up, and flicks cigarette at James. James jumps up, and backs away. 

JAMES 

You're joking. You're fucking joking Ang, please tell me you're fucking joking! 

TONY

Oh Christ almighty. 

Tony still sitting down, hands on top of his head.

ANGELA

I wasn't going to say anything. I was gonna take care of it, but I couldn't take it any longer!

JAMES

What are we going to do?

ANGELA 

Your ass is gonna do nothing. I found a wallet on the ground inside. I think there was enough in it to cover the costs. 

TONY

Cover the costs of what? 

ANGELA

To get it done. 

TONY 

Oh honey.

JAMES

You sure that's what you want to do? 

ANGELA 

I've never believed in it, but I don't know, I don't fucking know! 

TONY

Why don't we get a hotel for the night in the city? Why don't we treat ourselves? Think about this tomorrow. 

James walks towards Angela arms out.

JAMES 

I don't think that's a bad idea Angela. Think tomorrow when our heads are clear. Whatever you want to do Angela. 

James brings Angela close to him, and hugs her. Angela breaks into tears, and slightly hugs James back. Camera shot moves to a bird's eye view. Cuts to black. The end. 

Sunday (SILENT FILM)

INT. SUBWAY TRAIN 

Ian enters the subway and stands alone. Subway train is somewhat full. 

Ian sits down at a seat near the doors. 

Camera angle is shooting down the aisle of the subway train, behind Ian.

Zoom in slowly over Ian's shoulder.

Ian looks into window and sees himself. Holds look for 15 seconds. 

Camera shot is just the right side of his face. 

Ian looks forward down the aisle and continues to stare intently. 

Ian lets out a sigh, and shakes his head. Slight laugh. 

Ian reaches for his phone and calls, July. Phone rings, and no answer. 

Ian puts his phone in his pocket. Looks at window. 

Close up again at the right side of his face. Slow zoom in on the reflection of himself in the glass. 

Ian pulls out his phone again (camera over his right shoulder), and texts Sara, "I feel sick to my fucking stomach about last night". 

Subway train doors open, and a random man bumps into Ian, phone gets sent flying out of the open doors. 

Ian runs out of the open doors to grab his phone. It gets accidentally kicked by another person. Ian is trying to find it while running through a sea of feet, and legs. 

Ian finds his phone and turns around to get onto the same train, but the doors close and the train goes away. 

Ian tries to call July again, but the call gets dropped half way through the ringing. 

Ian runs up the stairs to the street level. Tries to call again, and it again goes to voice mail. 

INT. SUBWAY TRAIN

July walks onto a train, and sits down at a window seat. 

Camera angle is facing straight at July.

July looks at her phone and sees the 2 missed calls from Ian. Swipes the notification away and looks at a text from Sara saying, "call when you can sis".

A handsome man sits down next to July, and they make eye contact as she looks over at him. 

Camera angle still from the front. The man looks over at July who is looking down at her nails. 

July pulls out her phone again, and texts Sara back, "what's going on? I'm on the train."

July puts her phone into her purse. 

The camera angle shifts to the man's right side and he looks over at July. 

Camera angle changes to back to straight at them both. 

The man leans over slightly and says something to July. 

July turns to the man and nods her head, and smiles. 

They shake hands. 

The man points to a folder July has in her hand. She shrugs and shakes her head. They both laugh. 

The man puts his hands up in the air with a large smile. July puts her hand over her mouth to contain her laughter. 

EXT. CITY STREET. SUMMER NIGHT. 7-8 PM. LIGHT RAIN. 

Ian smoking a cigarette pacing back and forth at the top of the stairs that lead into the subway. 

Camera is on the subway stairs looking up at him.

Camera angle changes to POV of Ian's vision, and attention.

Ian looks up to a building, eyes over a few windows, and then he focuses on one window, staring intently at it for about 12-15 seconds. 

Camera shifts to his left side, full body shot, and he takes a long last drag from his cigarette, and then tosses it on the ground, and puts it out with his shoe. 

He looks at the cigarette butt on the ground for 10 seconds and then reaches for his pocket. 

Ian takes out his phone to a text from July saying, "hey babe, going into the train, can't talk. I'll call when I get to Queen Anne." 

Ian texts Sara, "come meet me, I'm up on the hill, at that bar on minor, the electric". 

Sara responds back, "okay 15 min or so". 

INT. SUBWAY TRAIN

The camera angle is from behind July, and the man. The train stop lights up above them in letters reading, "Approaching Capitol Hill"

July is still sitting with the man that she met. She laughs and puts her hand on his arm, then takes it off slowly but has a somewhat confused look on her face -- almost as if she didn't realize what she was doing. 

The camera angle shifts to directing in front of them again.

The man looks into July's eyes, and she looks back at him and smiles, then looks down at the ground. 

He says something, and then she looks up at him again. There faces get closer together, but then he breaks away, and nods his head at the opening doors. 

They both get up and walk out together.

The camera follows them from behind, through the lobby, and up the stairs to the street level. 

INT. THE ELECTRIC (CAPITOL HILL BAR). AROUND 9:30 PM. MILDLY CROWDED. 

Ian is sitting in the back corner of the bar. It's small, dirty, a stereotypical dive Seattle bar. Riders on the Storm plays in the background softly. 

Ian sips his gin and tonic. 

Camera angle is looking straight at him in his booth alone. 

Ian takes out his phone, and texts July, "babe are you to Queen Anne yet? I really want to talk to you."

Sara walks into the bar, the camera cuts to a frontal view of Sara as she is approaching the booth, and then cuts back to Ian. Ian looks up from his phone to see Sara walking towards him. 

Ian shakes his head, and moves farther into the booth to make room for Sara. 

Sara stops as she is about to get into the booth, and walks over to the bar to order a drink. 

Ian looks at his phone again, and texts July, "is everything okay?"

Ian stares at the sent text for 20 seconds or so and then sends a follow up text, "I love you."

Sara walks over from the bar, and scoots into the booth. She puts her hand on Ian's leg. Ian shoves it off gently, but holds onto her hand for 10 seconds or so. 

Sara smiles cunningly, and takes a sip from her vodka cranberry. 

Sara moves even closer to Ian, but he backs off and looks the other way. 

The camera moves in on them, almost as if its on the middle of the table. It slowly zooms in on Sara's face looking at Ian, then cuts quickly to Ian's face, but he's looking away, then jumps quickly to a shot of them both looking at each other. 

Ian moves in closer to Sara.

Sara moves in closer to Ian. 

The camera zooms out slowly as they kiss each other,the kiss is held for 5 seconds or so, and then Ian grabs the side of Sara's face, and then Ian abruptly breaks away. 

Ian says something to Sara, and Sara backs away from Ian in the booth. She shakes her head, and punches him in the arm. 

The camera angle shifts to Ian's left side with Ian and Sara in the shot. 

Sara takes her drink, and shoves it off the booth table, and it breaks on the ground. Sara starts walking towards the door, and the camera zooms in on her walking away. 

Then it cuts abruptly to Ian with his head in his hands and holds this shot for 20 seconds or so. 

A bartender walks over to Ian and says something, Ian just puts his hands up in the air, and the bartender points to the back of the bar. 

Ian nods acceptably and gets out of the booth and walks to the back of the bar to grab a broom. 

EXT. CITY STREET. 10:05. 

The camera angle is looking straight ahead at July, and the man from the subway. Full body shot. 

July and the man from the subway walk down the sidewalk. She looks up at him and smiles, and he looks at the camera. 

The man then looks at her, then back at the camera and points to a glowing neon sign which reads, "The Electric".

The camera zooms in slowly at July, and she pauses then nods her head, and says something. 

The man grabs the door, and they walk in. 

INT. THE ELECTRIC (CAPITOL HILL BAR) 10:07. PRETTY CROWDED.

Ian is sweeping, and then looks towards the door, and sees July, and the man walk in. 

Ian quickly jumps into the booth, attempting to not be seen.

The camera shifts from Ian's POV from the booth. 

July and the man sit at the bar and continue to talk. The man orders drinks from the bartender. 

The man leans over to July, and she leans into him, and they kiss. 

Camera cuts to Ian's face. His mouth his open with his left hand slightly over it. 

Camera cuts back to the POV of Ian from the booth. Before the bartender can bring the drinks to July, and the man they both get up and leave the bar. 

THE END. 

ILKA

I guess it started on the canal at three am, just down the road from the train stop in Rue Blancht. It was days after I had met Miranda at the hostel, an illustrator from New York, well, originally from Berkley now residing in Brooklyn. We ate great dinners in the places of Paris where I thought I always wanted to be; yet they made me feel like I was doing everything an American would do. We had conversations that left me excited, and in a state of confusion. By already being in Rome for four weeks studying, and now a few days in Paris I had come to the conclusion that people often lose themselves in the freedom of travel, and they let go of their walls. People say, and often times do whatever the hell they want to, because of the lack of judgment.

But Miranda was gone at this point. We were out till the birds were chirping the night before. We had met an Aussie man, and a young woman from Los Angeles. Having a California girl bond she was hanging out with the young woman tonight, so I was on my own. I had gone up to the rooftop bar at the hostel, and was approached by a few guys, one from Australia, a New Yorker, and another from Naples, Italy. They asked what I was doing that night, which was nothing and we agreed to meet up later that evening.

I thought we should do what the locals do. I had been down the canal enough nights that I thought I figured it out. The local Parisians buy a few bottles of whatever remedy with a pack of bones, and they sit and talk and laugh and enjoy life on the canal under the Parisian moon in their city of supposed love.

The guys were game because I really sold them on the fact that I thought it was the way to meet Parisian French girls. They followed my lead down to the liquor store, and to the canal. We walked, and tried to talk to a few Spanish girls, but they seemed annoyed. We plodded on and bought more wine to loosen the gears and break down the initial interaction. Then seemingly out of nowhere these Jamaican guys, and some French girls stopped us. We sat and joined in. Everyone seemed to know enough English, and as long as us native English speakers slowed down our speech, nothing was too difficult to convey.

A few hours went by, and I had lost my group of fellow traveling men, and I was falling into the green eyes of a Parisian girl originally from Morocco. She spoke perfect English, and rolled the most beautiful cigarettes. We spoke of where we were from, and what we wanted in life. Although, in passing she liberated her age to me, she was seventeen. I was instantly shocked, and taken back. Her friends wanted to leave, and it was just now getting to be about three am, so we split off and went our ways.

I started walking up the canal towards the hostel when I was stopped by one of the Jamaicans. He handed me his bottle of wine so I took a hit and we kept walking. Apparently we were headed the same direction. Right before the bridge I had to cross there was an older shorter man, and three young women. The Jamaican man said something to the group in French. Suddenly as long as it took me to look up from the smoke I was lighting the Jamaican man had tossed off his backpack, and the French man had stood up and taken off his belt. I backed away, and they started yelling in French mixed with English about something, which I didn’t understand. I had drunk too much wine to really want to figure it all out. But I felt an odd responsibility to bring a halt to the certain silly madness, so I ran up to my Jamaican drinking buddy and hugged him from behind keeping him from destroying the much smaller French man. I spoke into his ear loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for the older French man to hear.

“Listen big guy, you don’t want to wreck this old fool, because you know when the cops show up who they’ll go after first.” I said.

“Fuck this guy mahn, he no mahn.”

“That’s beside the point, you want trouble? You think this bitch is worth it?”

“Maybe you’re right.” He said.

“I know I’m right motherfucker, now grab your bag and just get out of here before you hurt this son of a bitch.”

“You be here tomorrow friend?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll go now.”

He picked up his bag and did what I said, and the older French man nodded at me. I said sorry to the girls, they were sitting down and so I knelt to get to eye level.

“Listen, I just met that guy, and we were just walking back the same way.”

“He not your friend?” One of the French girls asked. She had a short 90s hair cut with a Marlboro in her hand; she took a drag and exhaled through her nose.

“No, no, not my friend, I’m American, and I want to meet local Parisians, may I sit with you?”

“Do you like whiskey?” One of the other girls said, she had those smoky French eyes you always hear of.

I sat next to the girl with the 90s hair cut, she had a wide beautiful smile, she was gorgeous. She was one of those beauties that you don’t recognize at first then after five minutes of talking you can’t break away, and you don’t want to. They all introduced themselves; it was Juliette with black hair, Sonya with the smoky eyes, Sabastian (the older man who’s ass I saved), and Ilka with the beauty I couldn’t understand.

“Where are you from in America?” She asked.

“I’m from Seattle, I just studied in Rome, and now here to see your city.”

“What you study in Seattle?”

“I study writing. But I want to work in film, so LA soon.”

“Aaaah California, Seattle, you are so lucky.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, have you seen your city?”

“Yes, Paris is beautiful, but I live here forever, and people are sick here, nobody good.”

“Really? That can’t be true. You and your friends are nice.”

“Yes we the only good Parisians!”

They all laughed, and we played music on little portable speakers, and drank more wine, and whiskey and time just went by without notice. At five am it started pouring down rain. We all ran to the nearest tree, and hid underneath. Juliette ran into the crazy random storm and hailed a cab.

“You want to come with us?” Ilka asked looking up at me.

“Yes, yeah of course.” I said.

She smiled at me and grabbed my hand. There were only four seats in the cab so the older French man was left out in the storm. I felt bad, and asked how they knew the guy.

“He just walk up like you, but he old, and kind of weird.”

“Ah all right, got it.”

We arrived at Ilka’s, well it wasn’t Ilka’s necessarily it was her wealthy godmother’s apartment in old Paris, old gorgeous Hemingway Paris. We went up four stories and opened the door and I nearly fell over in the doorway. It was one of those places that I had always pictured.  It was that stereotypical Parisian apartment: spiral staircase, art studio, classic paintings covering every inch, ashtrays on every flat surface. Ilka’s godmother was at her country home for most of the summer. Ilka’s parents were in Spain for a good while living in a house there, and a family from Spain was living at her house here in Paris. So Ilka had to stay at her godmother’s place. Not a bad situation given the circumstances.

We all listened to some music and laughed, and talked more. They wanted to know about America, and I wanted to know about France. Eventually Juliette, and Sonya left, and it was just Ilka and I in the apartment carved out of a dream. She looked at me with her eyes beautiful as the moon on a crisp night.

“Sleep now, American boy?”

“Yes, please.” I replied.

I turned over from my back onto my shoulder, and she was having another smoke lying on her side, hand in her already messy hair.

“What’s your dream?” I asked her.

“My dream?”

“What do you want to do?”

“For work, or life?”

“Aren’t they pretty much the same thing?”

“I want to help people, all over the world. No matter the color or religion. Travel to different places, and work in law or foundations, but it’s just a dream. How about you Mr. American?” She said.

“That’s beautiful. I want to make movies, I want to make money, I want to tell stories that make people feel, and get paid for it. But it’s just a dream.”

“That’s beautiful too, money and movies.” Ilka said.

The next day I checked out of my hostel. We went to the clubs every night or the canal, and drank more whiskey, and wine. During the day all she wanted to was lay around and watch movies, and eat crepes and paninis. There was a movie store down the road so I went and bought my favorite old American films such as: Rebel Without a Cause, Bullitt, and The Get Away.

After watching The Get Away, I looked at Ilka who was lying on my arm as we kicked up our feet on the couch. She flicked her cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table.

“Okay I’ll be Steve McQueen, and you be Ali MacGraw, and we will run away together. Spain, or Italy, maybe Portugal?”

“Yes sounds almost perfect, or you and me can kick my godmother out back to her country home when she arrives here, and we just live here forever.”

“Oh right, we’ll just leave to get your Marlboros, and my Lucky Strikes, and coffee, paninis, and movies.” I said smiling into her eyes.

“Easy life, perfect life.”

Then she hugged me while lying there on the couch. Then backed away, and looked right into me.

“I want to be really with you, I don’t want you to leave back to Seattle, I want to go to Seattle too. I have a boyfriend for one year, and never feel close to this. How do I have this sensation, this thing that makes me feel?”  She said.

“Jesus I wish I knew, I don’t know, but I think we can only focus on the now. Right here and now. Let’s go do something, let’s go to the Eiffel Tower, we can lay in the grass and drink Rosé.”

“Oh you so American, but it is a beautiful day. For you I will be a tourist.”

We went to the Eiffel Tower, and sprawled out in the grass and didn’t talk much. I took photos of her making faces, and posing all sexy. It was perfect, and the breeze rounded and the gentle Parisian sun shined. I had a thought there lying with her in the grass that I could’ve died right there without a worry in the world. If the world just turned off I’d be okay, we’d be okay. Then my mind began to wander more, thinking how did something like this happen, and how could I meet her here.

“You believe in God?” I asked.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Well I don’t know, like any other question, do you think he’s up there?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. I think God is in people, some people, good people. Maybe God is in you, maybe God is in my father, or maybe God was in James Dean.” She said.

“Hahaha, God definitely was in James Dean. But, really, you think there is a plan, you think things or you meet people for a reason?”

“Oh you mean you met me for a reason, that I met you for a reason?”

“Sure.”  

“Maybe, but God only knows.” She said with a laugh shooting her smile up to the cloudless sky.

“You’re funny, comedian, really funny.” I said.

The days went by, and it truly felt like love. I think it was the first time I ever felt that, or thought about it towards someone else, at least the damn notion. Maybe it was because I was leaving soon, and we could be as close as we dared. On the way back to her place we sat on the subway and she leaned her head on my shoulder. I put an ear-bud in her left ear, and one in my right and we listened to old soulful music. Sam Cooke was her favorite so we listened to, Send Me, over and over again with the passing stations rolling by. I thought nobody in the whole Goddamn world will ever believe me, and if they actually did by some insane chance they’ll never really know how it was.

My last day came up far too soon. When I woke up she was smoking a cigarette with her legs crossed and looking at me with those big gorgeous eyes. I could have cried right then and there if I could’ve let go of some pride. I left early like I always do. Ilka called a cab, and it showed up fifteen minutes later. I kissed her long, and wanted to forever. She put the side of her face in my chest, and I could feel her gently crying.

“I’ll see you again, you’ll see me again. We’re young, and smart.”

I didn’t have real words. I couldn’t believe it. I came to Europe with the mindset of avenging a supposed love lost back home, I wanted to sleep, and mess around with as many women as possible. Although, when it came down to it some 5’3 cute, weird, messy haired girl from Bastille living at her Godmother’s apartment carved out of a dream made me lose my mind in a place completely foreign to any dream I could dream.

“Goodbye American boy, Paris loves you. I won’t forget you.”

“I’ll see you in Seattle soon.”

When I arrived at the airport I had an hour till boarding so I headed straight for the bar.  Who was sitting there drinking her white wine but Miranda. I absolutely lost it. We shared stories of what had happened. She said that she thought something must have come up; she hadn’t seen me at the hostel anymore. I told her I met someone that I’ll never forget, and that I never wanted to leave. I got a few more whiskeys down, and her a few more white wines.

“Don’t get on that flight.” Miranda said.

“What?”

“I did exactly what you are thinking about doing one time and I’ve regretted it ever since. Go back and try and love her. But really love her this time.”

“I think I already do.”

“No you don’t.”

Wild Fires of North America

( I KNOW THE FORMATTING IS KIND OF WHACKED OUT, BLAME IT ON BLOGGER FOR BEING STUPID, SORRY!!!)

      

Ben, Devin, and I set out to find a special place, a spot where nobody else in the writing program was thinking of going, or seeing. A location so real, and untouched that tourists would be foreign, and the experience would be new. We left for Sorrento, a beach tourist town, and we would stay there at night and go out the next day for the remote. Just getting to Sorrento was an odyssey all on its own. We hopped on the fast train out of Rome Termini next to The Capitol after catching the tram there from our place in Trestevere.

It had to have been the most interesting yet berserk train ride I’ve ever been on. About an hour and a half in I was awakened by what it seemed like 3 tanned chubby brothers yapping at each other walking through our cart, half way through the biggest likely to be the oldest brother planted a foot, pivoted, looked the poor soul of the medium sized boy in the eyes and absolutely slapped him into oblivion. The culprit without any doubt turned back around and kept walking. The brother that was struck let out a gasp and kept walking too; he seemed to have known his place. Almost immediately after that the train came to a complete stop next to a wild and raging brush fire. My flight senses shot to my bag, which I slung over my shoulder, and I jumped in the direction of the nearest exit, completely oblivious to Ben and Devin still sitting but wide-eyed watching the flames grow,

“What the fuck, why is the train stopped?”

“Dude this is not good.”

“Damn if I blow up in the Italian country side, not yet.”

Then the train slowing started chugging again leaving the ripping flames behind, I sat down and just shook my head and closed my eyes.  

I woke up in what seemed to be the Detroit of Italy, Naples. From Naples we were supposed to take another train to Sorrento. We wanted to leave immediately; the place seeped of dirt, and fear. It wasn’t a place to stay, or see, at least from the train station. We jumped on the second train, which was more reminiscent of a subway than anything. The damn thing came after we waited in the dank train station for it to roll up for 30 minutes. The amount of people waiting was far more than its legitimate capacity, and as soon as those doors swung open everyone on that platform ran through as if their lives depended on it. We pushed and pulled through the maze and got to an area where we could stand and hold on through every screech and stop. We met a couple from New Jersey that were backpacking right down and around the whole continent. The man, a history teacher, and the woman, a nurse. Real salt of the earth, I turned to Devin, and said, “Those are the kinds of people that make countries.”

He nodded as if he was thinking the exact thing.

Eventually we were able to sit and I wrote down each stop’s name. The road, or way to Sorrento was long and hot, flying through Ercolano, Pompeii, Portici, Bellavista, Cavavilla de Bronzo, flowing in and out of dark tunnels with rattling trains blowing by, past South Gorgio a Cremano, Pozzo. Us guys had been split up and Ben was sitting with 3 other men, and Devin with 2 and a younger lady. She was on the phone going back and forth with the person on the other end. The Barra stop came, and the man sitting across from her got up and left. I went over and sat down and started talking with Devin, mostly cursing the elements, and the dark atmosphere of the subway even with the cabins scorching hot. The younger blonde lady looked up at me and said, “Ciao.”

I looked back, and said, “English?”

She smiled, and nodded her head.

“You ever been to Nettuno?” I asked.

“No, I heard it’s beautiful, but hard to get to kinda.”

“Yeah, we are from America, and want to see real Italy, the small towns, and stuff.”

“You staying in Napoli?”

“No, no, Roma, we are students, writers.”

“Aaah, I study Economics, much easier than writing.”

“I don’t know about that.”

We sat talking for a few more stops until hers rolled up, San Giovanni. She added me on Facebook, and said she’d be in Rome for the Holi Festival. I nodded and waved goodbye.

            About 20 more minutes and we were in Sorrento. We dropped our things off, grabbed some sandwiches, a few beers, and a couple bottles of wine and went to the beach. It was already about 8:30 or so, and we just sat there on the beach and watched the night come in. It was all good and okay there, no real worries about anything.

            The next morning came and we hopped on another bus to take us to our special location and beach. Netunno. The winding crazed road in made me think that every bus driver must have been a real professional, there was no messing around in those parts, you had to have ice cold veins, and strong white knuckles, because past the small brick ledge was infinity down the plush beautiful hills. I imagined the headline: 3 good old American boys, and a few random Italians blow up in beautiful spectacle seen from every corner of the coast.

            About an hour past and we woke up in Nettuno. We found the nearest bar, grabbed a few beers, and sandwiches and laid out on the rocks. At first you see a rock beach and it looks terrible and crude, but after a while it wasn’t too bad, and I came to appreciate the fact that I didn’t have sand in every corner of my body. We sat there talking, sleeping, making stacks of rocks. I saw two young Italian boys playing volleyball in the water, and I went in for a swim. I went over to them and asked if I could play, 10 minutes past and Devin was in on it as well. We dove, jumped, fell over, laughed in the water for 45 minutes or so. The little boys probably around 10 or 12 were just as old as Devin and I were, and me and Devin as old as them, they didn’t speak English, we didn’t speak Italian, but it didn’t matter, we were all just kids playing in the water enjoying a break from the heat, and I thought sitting back on the beach, these are the things I’ll remember. I won’t remember an assignment sitting on my deathbed moments away, I won’t remember the score of that game, or how great that song was, I’ll remember the interaction, the meeting of people, her smile, the ways the boys would laugh, the essence of things, places, real beauty, and all the colors.

            One of the mothers got my attention, and said that us playing with them was very nice. She spoke great English, along with a few of the other ladies that were with her.

“You have to go there for dinner, and get an ‘uggo’, good seafood too.”

“All right, yeah we will.”

“And how’d you find out about this place? We never see tourists.. well, tourists from so far away.”

“You know, I’m not really sure.”

“I guess things just happen sometimes.” She said.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

The last bus left for Nettuno at 11, and it was only 8 or so by this time so we headed up for dinner. A kind middle-aged Italian man sat us to our seats, and I ordered 3 uggos off the jump. Minutes later he came out with the cold beverages, along with some appetizers that never were counted into the bill. The drinks were so perfect, and the view so gorgeous, watching the sun drop into the sea that I thought now everything will be underwhelming, not a goddamn thing will beat this moment. We sipped 3 more glasses of the celestial drink, and all got the spaghetti, with seafood just as the women advised, and jesus I’ve never felt so alive. We sat there and watched the colors become more purple, and rapt, and the upper regions come alive. There was nowhere else then, nobody else, just the stars, and the open sky. It eventually got dark enough that the moon came out and it was almost right on the edge of the horizon, huge, and bulbous, and the darkest shade of orange. Over the next half hour it rose, and ascended into the high sky illuminating more with color in every stage. It didn’t seem real, and I don’t know if it still was, we all could of been dreaming drunk off the celestial drink just imagining life to be that wild, and impulsive, mother nature was truly messing with our minds right then with no regret, just whispering, “just keep watching boys, you haven’t seen shit yet.”
And I kept sitting there and thinking, hell, I don’t know if I even want to anymore.