Disappearing Acts, Escape Artists Part II

"Brandon is real!" I screamed out loud in the hostel lounge. This was a complete relief, because I was now only 50% schizophrenic. I still had heard no word from Garrett, but assumed he had met up with Brandon the day before. How wrong I was. Brandon's email informed me that he had been working on a farm in Tuscany for some weeks with a girl from Napoli named Giovanna. Now, Giovanna was the only person on the farm that had a calendar, and she seemed to have taken to Brandon, because she didn't want him to leave, so much so that she gave him the wrong date thus delaying his departure a day. Brandon is a good-looking guy, but this Giovanna girl had taken it one step too far. She was planning to come to Rome to see him two weeks later. You would think that she could wait a measly two weeks.

Brandon ended up staying at a hostel down the road. His email told me to stay put and wait for him, but I couldn't. I ran out the door without even logging out of my email account, and ran the 100 m. to Montestella hostel, where I found Brandon, bandanna wrapped around his head, blue sleeveless t-shirt on, smoking a cigarette. I don't smoke, but when I found him I grabbed that cigarette from him and puffed on it to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I recounted my tale of adventure to him, and then he looked at me a bit perplexed and asked, "Where the fuck is Garrett?" I said, "I thought he was with you!" "Shit!" we both exclaimed. This was Garrett's first time out of the USA, and he had flown in on a German airline. He could be anywhere. We decided to do what we thought was most important in starting our search. Taking shits. We started to walk back to my hostel, which had decently clean toilets, when I heard a voice cry out "Jim, Brandon!?" It was Garrett, rattled beyond belief and ready to rattle off a tale filled with misfortune, and spit, an added interactive experience that hit both of our faces with a regular consistency.

Garrett arrived on time, with enough luggage for a group of girl scouts on a trek to Mt. Everest. After searching for Brandon and I for five hours, the boy decided it best to take post in front of Termini station. Here he was approached by a man from Napoli who apparently thought Garrett was an expert on the intricacies of the Roman streets, and the Italian language, because he started asking Garrett for directions in Italian and broken English. The man also speaks with his hands putting on a hell of a display for an hour, all the time trying to hold Garrett gaze straight ahead. Garrett was sitting on one suitcase, the other was on his left side, his book bag was in his lap and brand new computer on his right. When the timing was opportune, the Napolitano opportunist and friend snatched Garrett's computer and made off. Garrett couldn't do anything about it for fear of losing the rest of his luggage, so he just got up and restarted his search for two American guys he didn't know.

He ran into an old man, decrepit and white haired that offered him a room in a hotel for only 45 Euro a night. The man talked Garrett into staying three nights at this fantastically astronomical price. Brandon and I by comparison were paying 18 a night. This fabulous trickster was named Luciano. He even had an apartment to offer to us, Garrett later informed us. Garrett went to the hotel and was just happy to put what was left of his luggage in a safe spot. He tried to massage his hands, because they were swollen to twice their normal size from lugging his bags that were filled with stone carving chisels and mallets. Garrett never ended up carving anything during his stay in Rome, but he did read every Harry Potter book out at the time in less than one month, and also read three other fantasy novels, two by George R.R. Martin and the other by Robert Jordan. He ended up making a permanent dent in the shape of his ass, and a sweat stain from his back on our chair.

On his first night in Rome he went and drank outside of the hostel that Brandon ended up staying in, but didn't run into him. He found us by accident that morning, and like us was headed back to his hotel to take a shit.

To be continued again...