I met Jullion last year on a train and had kept in touch after I had put him up for a few days in an emergency couch-surfing episode. He's in Bologna as part of a Masters program with a pretty prestigious US university. And he's a hoot. I was definitely interested in meeting the boyfriend, since my Italian friends seem to ignore the idea of gays in Italy. Plus, his name is Igor – I've never seen an Italian named Igor.
They arrived around three at the train station. That place was a mobbed madhouse. I have never seen it wall to wall like it was. Everyone and their mother's cousin was coming to Venice for the night, apparently. They poured out of the arriving trains and the rowdiness easily suggested that most everyone aboard had been imbibing. Some had cans and bottles in their hands. This was going to get interesting.
Igor is from Basilicata, in the south, think of the arch of the sole of the boot-shaped country, and he speaks no English. He's a schoolteacher to middle school kids and he's adorable but reserved. In comparison to Jullion. That boy is wild. But we laughed so much just in the time we walking home from the train station that I could feel my stomach muscles cramping like I had been at a comedy club.
I cooked dinner for all of us and we went out and about town for the evening, Walk a ways, stop and have a drink in a campo. Listen to music, people-watch, dance to the music, move on. The streets were all heavily crowded but after all it was a Saturday night during Carnevale. Standing atop the Rialto bridge we were blocked from walking down the other side by a couple who stood stock still in their tracks taking photo after photo of all the people on the bridge. Not of the view over the canal, but of the swarm of bodies. I understand the need of taking a picture, but when you are shoulder to shoulder in a crushing press of lemmings don't add to the situation by continuing to block the flow of traffic. I mouthed off in a low voice with “It's a bridge. Take your picture and move on.” The girl looked back over her shoulder and in the typical nasally tone of a young woman from somewhere in the US of A she snarled “Ummmm...hello? It's our first time here and we're enjoying ourselves. Stop being so mean! Guhhhhoy!”
To which Jullion and I almost fell down laughing at her exasperated “Guuuhhhhhoy!” Poor Igor had no idea what he had missed, so he just stood and watched us having fits of laughter. She turned round and stared at us completely bug-eyed but pointed her finger at my torso and whinged out “Whaaaaaaaaaaat is your problem – have you and your boyfriend been drinking too much? And honey, he is too young for you. He's just going to move on when your trip is over. You are NOT all that you think you are!” Talk about getting your signals crossed.
I thought Jullion was going to collapse from not being able to breathe, and I thought I was going to pee myself I was howling so hard. Poor Igor. We'd explain it to him in a minute but Jullion composed himself somewhat, set his jaw, put his hand on his hip and started moving his neck around like an old southern baptist churchgoing woman upset about the collard greens being ruined at the potluck and he went off, in full-on flaming gay ghetto mode, responding with “Oh Boo Boo, don't you worry about us. You are doing TOO much. You are JUST doing the MOST and you don't need to be. Enjoy the rest of your evening and scoot along now. Just move on and get out the way before my gurrrrlfriend here has to take off her earrings and all her jurreee and put the vaseline on her cheeks before she gets her razor out her mouth she keeps hid in there for when crazy fools be poppin' off. She's from Oakland – you know? Oakland! And she can get snappy when she needs to. Don't test her! Thank you Precious. Enjoy your evening!” We had to pull off to the side at the bottom of the bridge after that and after watching them scurry away. We continued sidesplitting laughter for a few more minutes. We had to explain it all to Igor, of course. He thinks we are both crazy, more because of the guffaws than for the content of what was said.
“Siete pazzi insieme!” You two are crazy together.
We managed to keep ourselves in check for the remainder of the evening with no interactions. However about every twelve minutes either Jullion or I would spout off with “Boo Boo! You are doing the most!” The highlight was watching Igor mimic Jullion's actions. Not speaking English, mind you, just gobbledygook coming out of his mouth as if he was speaking English and with a charade of J's body language. Down pat. Hilarity. I guess you had to be there.
Arriving back at the apartment after 2AM we were getting ready to crawl in beds when I heard a ruckus outside in the calle. Lots of drunken giggling from multiple females. Three women, mid to late 20s, were standing in the alley and squatting to pee out there, right outside my door. I threw the door open wide and hollered in Italian my righteous indignation at having my street used as a toilet. They were scrambling, trying to pull pants up or push skirts down. One was still peeing down her legs as she ran off. Good riddance, I hope everyone is able to smell that urine on her for the rest of the weekend. That was nasty and just plain rude.
Again we fell into fits of laughter. Calm down, get tranquil and go to sleep. But it wasn't meant to be. Jullion started having breathing problems that were akin to an asthma attack. He tried breathing steam, breathing cold, nothing was working for him. It wasn't getting progressively worse, but it wasn't going away. We decided we needed to trek over to a night chemist. I looked up which pharmacy was on rotation, since it's published online and in the Guest In Venice magazine. We called to make certain they had inhaler meds on-hand he could get over the counter or if we would need to go to the hospital emergency. They had it and could dispense it. We walked from Rialto at 4:30AM over to Santa Croce near the bus station, consulted with the chemist, purchased the Albuterol and walked back with Jullion puffing on it periodically. By the time we got back to the house it was almost 6AM and he was doing much better, but definitely needed some sleep. I was completely wired up so I told them I would let them sleep and wake them up at noon.
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