I even took a picture of Michelangelo's David statue despite the screams of numerous employees foaming out the mouth trying to maintain their monopoly on post cards. People say that air traffic controllers have stressful jobs, but i think that being a "junk yard dog" for Michelangelo's David would be worse. You flounder around the room screaming "No Pictures, no pictures" like a superstitious Navajo Indian for about 8 hours a day. It seems like a combination of cruel and unusual punishment with a hint of situational comedy thrown into the mix. The only way to describe the personal hell that is this security guards life would be to imagine a person in a wheel chair finding himself in a very narrow handicap stall whose door only opens in.
Anyway i got a picture and as blurred as it was---- It was still a picture
The next day James took us to his favorite restauraunt where we were flooded with an impressive number of employees who all seemed to know James on a very personal level. It couldn't help but draw attention to the fact that John and I will be leaving behind very few friendships in Torino. The Kebab people, a teacher or two, and maybe the homeless woman outside the Grocery Store i pretend not to notice everyday.
The next day we climbed to the top of the Duomo which, suprisingly enough, is covered with a horribly barbaric mural. It appeared to be a massive depiction of the heinous torture involved with going to hell. As i gazed at the graphic artwork i couldn't help but think- After all the bible classes i've taken this really isn't what my interpretation of hell is like, at all. JUST THEN as i was thinking that, i saw it, my own personal hell captured in art form. It was rather hidden and it took me near 15 minutes of surveillance to find, but it embodied everything that i fear and loathe in this world. It was what appeared to be a frog person standing on two legs like a Neanderthal beating a skinless man un-mercilessly with a sock full of batteries. Pretty diabolical, and yet it definitely put the fear of God in me.
We did a lot of fun things while we were in Florence, one thing i'm not proud of is my decision to eat a double decker waffel and nutella sandwich. The story is as follows:
The day was like any other day, a little colder maybe, but that was the charm of the morning hours in the shade of the duomo. The cafe was small, quaint one might say, and exceedingly close to our place of stay.Thats where the mistake happened.
--- To eat a double decker waffle and nutella sandwich you have to have 3 things
1. No pride
2. No friends
3. No fear of kidney damage
"I'm good on two out of three of those" i thought as i strolled in with my two friends. Fast forward to the end of the meal- at this point i had diagnosed myself with type two diabetes, and "Finding a nice dialysis machine" had catapulted its way to the top of my priority lists. I left the cafe a broken man.
I realize that the format of my writing is very similar to that of Matt Drudge and therefore near impossible to understand. I apologize for that. I also apologize for my unnecessarily graphic depictions of my poor eating habits the last two blogs. That being said i can continue with my depiction of Florence.
The streets were crowded, but for good reason because the weather was spectacular and so was the city. One more eventful thing happened while i was in italy, Italians never stand in line, they don't understand the concept of a line which, of course, can be incredibly frustrating to you if you have been standing patiently in line while herds of lemmings speaking gibberish flow past you on either side. So late Saturday evening i finally snapped. You think ?Snapped?, but John your a piece maker- you defuse situations- too that i would say, i agree. This guy, however, pushed me too far, and so i decided to put this Jack back in his box. I pushed my way over to him and told him he better move back to the end of the line unless he wants to "make something of it". Which in case you don't know could mean anything, but i think the general implication is fighting. We both stood and looked at each other until he finally said, "You Americans always have to have your lines." He may have dissed America in that moment, but i had gotten him to back down and so i feel like once again its America 1 and Italy 0. Don't worry Mom i'm coming home soon. haha
Love you all
John
And the picture of me on the broom stick, is in a cemetery
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