well… winking at me?
Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of
Jane Harris
This is going to work. This HAS to work.
I know Cal doesn’t think it’s going to (big surprise).
But what does HE know? He’s been against those two getting together since before any of this even started. Look at him now, asking for the key to the men’s room. He STILL looks as if he doesn’t know quite what hit him. His hair is sticking up in the back in the most peculiar—but strangely erotic—fashion.
EROTIC???? What am I THINKING???? I am on a MISSION here. I can’t be thinking about sex at a time like this!!!
This HAS to work. We’re halfway to Rome now, and it’s only a little after ten. We should get there before lunch… well, probably just as they’re closing for lunch.
But that’s okay. It’s the US embassy. They can’t POSSIBLY take a four-hour lunch at the US embassy. They’re AMERICAN, for God’s sake. They probably take an hour lunch, like all normal people. So we can fill out the form, get the APOSTILLE, and get back on the road by two or three o’clock, and be home before dark.
PLEASE let them only take an hour for lunch….
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <[email protected]>
Fr: Holly Caputo <[email protected]>
Re: Where are you?
Sorry if there’s typos in this, I can’t really see very well, my head is pounding so much. But where are you guys? Frau Schumacher— who is being so sweet to us—says she doesn’t know, that you just took off without a word to anyone….
Well, I’m glad, anyway. I mean, that you’re not here to see this. I hope you’re off having fun somewhere. I’m so sorry for spoiling your vacation. And the wedding. I know how much you were looking forward to it. Almost as much as me—02q9375)(*&@
Sorry, I couldn’t stop crying there for a minute, and lost sight of the keyboard.
Anyway, I’m glad you and Cal seem to be getting along now, and hope you’ve gone to Loredo or somewhere. There really is some lovely sightseeing in the area. The Madonna’s house, for instance. Apparently angels lifted it and brought it from the Holy Land and dropped it here in Le Marche….
I was just wondering, though, have you seen Mark’s glasses? He swears he left them on the nightstand, but now they’re gone.
Not that it matters, since the only place he’s going is the bathroom. Still, it’s strange.
Well, write when you get a chance. Oh, God, not again—I have to go—
Holly
Travel Diary of Jane Harris
Travel Diary of
Jane Harris
We’re here!!!! The US embassy!!! We made it with minutes to spare!!!! Cal took over the driving after the Mobil station, and we practically FLEW the next few hundred kilometers.
Plus, he insisted on taking this different route, which didn’t go through the mountains. Which was good, since I forgot my Dramamine. We reached Rome at five minutes to twelve.
And now we’re here!!!!
I must say, this place isn’t at all like what I would have thought. I mean, inside, it’s kind of like my dentist’s office. There are all these chairs and people waiting and a glassed-in reception desk and you have to take a number (well, that’s more like at my butcher’s than at my dentist’s, but whatever). Our number is 92.
I have to say, the Modelizer is being much better about this than I’d thought he’d be, judging by his initial reaction in the car, when he finally woke up. I admit I kind of shanghaied him. I knew he wasn’t really awake when I made him get in the car.
Still, he’s taking it like a total sport. He hasn’t uttered a peep of anti-marriage propaganda all morning. Maybe the guy’s finally coming around after all.
Fat-bottomed girls/They make the rockin’ world go round—
Oh my God, I can’t BELIEVE that’s all we had to listen to the whole drive! We are heading STRAIGHT to a music store the minute we get out of here and buying another CD. I don’t care what. ANYTHING but Queen.
Although I have to admit, Freddy Mercury is totally growing on me.We are the champions, my friends
___________________________________________
Ooooooh, they’re calling a number. 92, 92, let it be 92!!!!!! 28?
28????
Cal just looked at me and went, “Looks like we’re going to be here awhile.”
Understatement of the year.
And all they’ve got to read is International Time magazine!International Time is like watered down real Time , which is already so watered down it’s like watching the local news, without the grisly power mower accidental decapitations.
I’m going to DIE.
But it’s worth it. It’s worth it for Holly. This is for her. And Mark. This is—
OH MY GOD, THIS IS MY WEDDING PRESENT TO THEM!!!!
YES!!! Why didn’t I think of it before??? Since I can’t give them this journal—um, especially not now that I’ve mentioned Cal’s pheromones—I’ll give them this… the form that will allow them to be married tomorrow.
Genius. Total genius. This is MUCH better than candlesticks or something dopey like that.
Oooooh, they’re calling another number… 92. COME ON!!! Maybe 29 through 91 left already.
Wait. That’s not a number. The guy’s putting a sign up on the glass. What’s it say?
PDA of Cal Langdon
PDA of Cal Langdon
I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe this is what I’ve been reduced to. I’m in Rome, possibly one of the most gastronomically diverse cities in the world, renowned for its cuisine, the long and languid lunch hour…
And I’m having warmed over eggplant pizza at Amici Amore, a ubiquitous Italian fast-food joint.
There’s a VIDEO ARCADE in the back.
I should have put my foot down. I should have explained that when a Roman hangs a sign that says the office will be closed until a certain hour, he absolutely means it.
But no. She kept insisting. She’s convinced if we scarf down a quick meal and get back to the embassy, we will somehow move up further in the line. Even though there is no line, and she is, in fact, holding a number that will doubtlessly not be called until tomorrow, or possibly next week.
