Waiting in Transit - Gold Days

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These days are gold. Every morning we enjoy pizza and beer outside Antonio’s corner pizzeria. St Peter stands humbly in front with all the saints surrounding. Nuns climb up to the fountain and partake of the cool spring. We see The Polizia who love the ladies. We see triple parked smart cars and fantastic drivers; we see Michelangelo’s ceiling, Raphael’s Athens, Caesar’s Coliseum, The Corinthian Arches, and the feet of our Lord being kissed by pilgrims. We see the ancient city where adulteresses were buried alive and defeated Jews were paraded with their ark. Ancient buildings and waterfalls leap at us from every corner, old men play chess, single mothers beg and Moroccans sell Louis Vuitton bags. The subway gets us there in no less than ten minutes. Rome is grand.

We wait patiently in line at Da Vinci’s airport, it’s green and white with high ceilings and cold floors. The American ahead of us is trying to sweet talk his way into an upgrade, ‘There are spare business class seats there on your screen’, the man in the business shirt leans over the counter and points, ‘there, see?’
The check-in lady smiles politely, ‘Sir you will have to pay if you want to be upgraded.’
The man’s armpits are leaking, which is surprising because it’s winter. ‘Come on woman! ‘ He squeaks. The polite check-in lady shakes her head, the squeaky man goes up an octave, ‘What the hell is this! Let me get this strait, what the hell! You wont let me sit there even though it’s an empty seat? God dam you people!’
‘Sir calm down, its only a forty five minute flight’.
‘I don’t give a god dam, that’s not the point’
‘Sir please! Other people are waiting’
‘Fine, give me my pass! Hurry up lady… come on… people are waiting’
‘Here is your boarding pass sir, I’ve put you next to the window, you are in seat 45a’

I am in seat 45b.

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