"What are you doing?" Kyle asked me. We had been on the damn airplane out of Atlanta for over four hours, and I wanted a cigarette so bad I could scream. The thing is, I sometimes go for a whole day, even two, without smoking, so it wasn't that. I think it was the idea that I couldn't smoke if I wanted to that made the craving so bad. The next time I take a long flight like that, I'm buying me some of that nicotine gum. "I'm jerking off, Kyle. What does it look like I'm doing?" I said. "Back off, Bubba. Don't jump on me. I know you got a pencil dick, but what you're holding is a real pencil," he said. "Sorry, Bubba. I'm just a little bit on edge right now," I said. "What I'm doing is trying to design the piece of the AIDS Quilt for Trey, and every fucking thing I draw sucks." "You need a little physical release, don't you?" he said. "No, I don't need a little physical release, thank you very much. What I need is a cigarette, and I can't have one," I said. "Hey, mister," Kyle said to a male flight attendant who happened to be passing. That guy was so "gay," he might as well have had it tattooed on his forehead. "Yes?" the guy asked. "My brother's having a nicotine fit. Can you hook him up with some gum or something?" Kyle asked. The guy smiled this sweet little mocking smile, and I wanted to punch his lights out. "As a matter of fact, I can," he said. He dug in his pocket and handed me this gray wad of shit wrapped up in a plastic case. "I'm a smoker, so I understand," he said. "Do you know how to use it?" "What is it?" I asked. "It's nicotine gum. It should relieve the craving," he said. "Just bite into it and hold it next to your gum. You'll be fine." "Thanks," I said. Kyle handed him a ten spot. "Buy more for the next trip," Kyle said. "Oh, it's free," the guy, whose nametag said "Reggie," said. "I don't buy it. The airline does." "Buy yourself a drink, then, on us," Kyle said. "He's trying to draw, and it's making him crazy not to be able to smoke. Maybe he'll get his drawing done now." "Oh, what are you drawing, if you don't mind my asking?" the guy said. "I'm trying to draw a panel for the AIDS Quilt," I said. "Do you know what that is?" "You're kidding, right?" he said. "No, I'm not kidding. One of our brothers died of AIDS in January, and they have this gigantic quilt that remembers the ones who died of it. We saw part of the quilt in San Francisco in March. I'm going to learn how to sew and make it for him," I said. "Was your brother gay?" Reggie asked. "Yeah, he was gay. So what? He was only thirty-two years old, and he died," I said. "Maybe by making this little piece of it, I can keep other boys from getting AIDS. It could have been me just as easy." "So are you, um . . . ?" "Hell, no," I said. "If I was an artist, I could probably do this better." "I think he meant, 'Are you gay,' asshole, and, yes, he is. And so am I, and so are these two," Kyle said, pointing to Tim and Brian. "We're two couples here." A look of surprise registered for a second on Reggie's face, but then it was gone. "May I look at your sketches?" he asked. "Sure. Maybe you got some ideas. I'm fresh out. But you know what? This gum is working, I think. Thanks, man," I said. Reggie studied my drawings. "I think I would combine these two pieces," he said, pointing to stuff on two different drawings. "Was 'Trey' his real name? Most of the time, that's a nickname for somebody who's 'the third.'" "I don't really know," I said. "I thought you said he was your brother," Reggie said. "He was, but not a blood brother. It's too complicated. His partner works for his daddy and for one of our big brothers. They got evicted, so they came to live with us for Trey to die," I said. "You're right. It's too complicated. Do you mind if I show these to one of the other flight attendants? He's an excellent artist, and I know he'll want to see them," Reggie said. "Meanwhile, what are you guys drinking?" "I don't know. We had a drink of some kind of whiskey a little while ago," I said. "Do you know, Kyle?" "No, I didn't pay attention to what was on the bottle," Kyle said. "It was Jack Daniel's," Brian said. "Okay. Let me take these. I'll be back in a second," he said. "Sure, go ahead," I said. Off he went. "How'd you know what we were drinking? You craving whiskey, all of a sudden?" I asked Brian, knowing he wasn't. Teasing him. "Yes. I'm craving whiskey and cigarettes and weed and women," Brian said. That cracked everybody up, including somebody we didn't know who was on our row. I leaned over and gave him a little peck on the lips. I just couldn't resist because he was so cute. Reggie was back just then with two bags, four cups of ice, and four Sprites. "Put the extras in your carry-ons," he said. "You won't have a problem with customs." Each bag was chocked full of little miniature bottles of Jack Daniel's whiskey. "Thanks, man," I said. "But you didn't have to do this, you know." "You're welcome, and I felt as though I did," he said. "By the way, I'm Reggie Davis." "Really? I'm Justin Davis. I must be your cousin. This is Brian Mathews, my boyfriend, Kyle Goodson, and Tim Murphy, Kyle's boyfriend," I said, and we all shook hands. "Where are you guys going?" he asked. "All over the damn place," Kyle said. "One place I really like, which may or may not appeal to you guys, is Cap D'Agde, in southeastern France. It may be a little extreme for your taste," he said. "I never heard of it," Kyle said. It was for damn sure I had never heard of it. "I'm not surprised," Reggie said. "It's a nudist town. You'll see people nude all over the place there. They have a nice beach, too." "What do you mean?" Kyle asked. Hell, I knew he'd be interested in something like that. "Well, nudity is the norm there, or at least it's as accepted as wearing clothes is," Reggie said. "For real?" Kyle asked. "Yeah. It's a resort, and it's not very big, but they get a lot of visitors in the summer, and, as I said, nudity is accepted everywhere," Reggie said. "Even like in church?" Kyle asked. "Well, probably not, but I've never been to church there," Reggie said. "There's a high percentage of gays and lesbians there, too, especially among the tourists. Well, I need to get going. Nice chatting with you guys." "Wait a minute," Kyle said. "Would you mind writing down the name of that place? I'll never remember it, if you don't." "I'll be happy to. In fact, we might even have a brochure or two around here somewhere," Reggie said. "It's on the Riviera, which is a 'must see,' anyway. But the town really has a rich history, and you can actually go to museums and concerts and things like that, too. And not everybody is nude, by any means. But a lot are." "Cool," Kyle said. "Thanks for the heads-up, man." "Surely you're not planning for us to go there," Tim said. "Well, not on this trip, but we might want to check it out on some other trip. If we all want to, that is," Kyle said. "I'll research it on the Internet when we get home." I was feeling so much more relaxed because of that gum. "Do you want another drink?" I asked Kyle. "Are you having one?" he asked. "Well, since it looks like I'm not going to go to sleep anytime soon, I reckon I will have one," I said. "If you have one, I will, too," Kyle said. It was pitch black midnight outside the plane. We had been in the air a long time, but it was just about eight o'clock at night by our time at home. I had tried to sleep when it got dark outside, but sleep just wouldn't come. "We're going to have some major jet lag," Kyle said. "What does that mean?" I asked. "Well, it's going to be tomorrow morning their time when we get there," he said. "It's going to be rough the first day or so, till we get used to it. It'll be the time we usually go to bed by the time we check into our hotel. We'll probably want to get a good nap for a few hours, at least." Our first stop was going to be Rome, Italy, and that is a big Catholic town, as I remembered reading about it. I'm a Catholic now, though, and I was ready for that. Reggie came back in about two hours or so, followed by another flight attendant who looked just as queer as Reggie did. "Guys, this is Brent. Brent this is Justin, and I'm sorry, but I don't remember the rest of your names," Reggie said. We told Brent our names, and we all shook hands with him. "Justin, designing a panel for the Quilt is a labor of love for me. I've done eighteen of them so far, nineteen, counting yours. Yes, I'm gay, and I've lost several very close friends to AIDS. Look at these two designs to see if you like either one," Brent said. He had two designs, and they were both done up in colored pencil. I mean, he hadn't had time to color them in all the way, but he showed the colors he intended. I thought they were both terrific. "Whoa!" I said to Brent. "Both of these are great, man. What do y'all think?" I asked my brothers. "This one is of Trey's back with the sandals. He's got sand in his shoes, Justin. This is pure Emerald Beach, Jus. I like this one the best," Kyle said. "Yeah, but it's his back. Where's he going?" I asked. "He's going home to God, dumbass. Don't you see the light in the distance?" Kyle asked. "Ain't that supposed to represent God?" "Yes, that is supposed to represent going home to God. I'm sorry, but I couldn't do his face because I don't know what he looked like," Brett said. "Maybe you can scan a photograph onto white cotton cloth and sew it on at the bottom." "I like that idea. Do you know how to do that?" I asked Kyle. "No, but I bet Jeff does," Kyle said. "He'll figure it out, if he doesn't." "Okay, all of this is embroidery, quilted. Do you know how to do this?" Brent asked. "Brent, I don't even know how to thread a needle, but I can learn. I'm going to do this thing," I said. "We're all going to learn, Brent, but this is the one and only one I hope we ever have to make," Kyle said. "God bless you, and I hope you're right," Brent said. Then he turned and walked away. "He's not being rude, guys. His partner of six years is dying of AIDS right now," Reggie said. "His partner was infected with HIV when he was fourteen years old. The medicines worked at first, but they haven't been effective since he developed AIDS. Brent was very moved when I asked him to work on these drawings. His boy isn't going to make it, and he knows that." "Shit," I said. "Fourteen. Jesus Christ!" "Fourteen is not too young to be infected, Justin," Reggie said. "Young boys think they can have unprotected sex because they're young and it won't happen to them. But it can, and it does." I looked at Brian, and he gave me a smile and a thumbs up. We will never have unprotected sex. Ever. I don't care how many fucking HIV tests I pass. "I reckon I'm going to have to learn some sewing to make this, but I'm going to do it," I said. "We'll take turns. We'll all learn how to do it," Kyle said. Suddenly, and I mean absolutely suddenly, it was dawn. We had crossed some magic line or something, but, all of a sudden, there was sunlight in the plane. The flight attendants came around, waking people up and serving breakfast. I still had a big drink of Jack Daniels and Sprite in front of me. I had barely touched it. And there was breakfast. Damn. "What do I do with this?" I asked Kyle. "I'd say drink it up. I got the same amount as you, and I'm drinking mine," he said. * * * We finally got to the airport in Rome, and it took us a good half hour to get off that plane. We each had a carryon bag, but they were small compared to the ones that some of those people had carried on. The Rome airport wasn't all that impressive, to me. It's called Leonardo Da Vinci Airport, and he's a famous artist who painted a picture of some girl named Lisa. I know that much from the art history class I took in college. Damn, it's still hard for me to imagine I have a college degree. I mean, it's only an AA, and not a BS, but I already have plenty BS. And so does Goodson. One of the things that sort of shocked me was there were soldiers in the airport carrying machine guns. I kind of wanted to go talk to one of them to see if he would let me look at it, but Kyle made us haul ass in that place. First stop, customs. "Keep your mouth shut in customs. Don't say nothing. They probably are going to want to look in your bags. It ain't personal, so nobody mouth off, okay?" Kyle said. "They might also want to do a body cavity search," Tim said. He and Kyle had both been to Europe before, so I figured they knew what the hell they were talking about. "What you mean, a body cavity?" I asked. "Where are your body cavities? Mouth and butt, right?" Kyle said. "Let's get back on the plane. I ain't letting no stranger look up my butt," I said. "I like spaghetti fine, but not that much. We can get it at home, too. Let's go." Kyle, Tim, and Brian started laughing. "Shit, y'all got me last, didn't you?" I said. "I hate you sons of bitches." "What's the matter, Bubba? You don't want nobody fooling with this thing?" Kyle asked, touching my butt. "Get your fucking hands off me, Kyle. Jesus Christ! I can't believe you," I said. I wasn't really pissed off, but it was a public place, and all. "Buddy, calm down. Nobody saw him do that but us, and, from what I've read, they wouldn't have thought anything of it, even if they had seen," Brian said. "I'm so damn stressed right now, I can't breathe," I said. "Calm down, Bubba. I'm sorry for teasing you and touching you," Kyle said. I knew he didn't mean any harm by all of that, but there I was, a dumb hick from Alabama, in Rome, fucking, Italy. I didn't know what to think. We got to the customs checkpoint, and that was about a non-event. I flashed my passport, and the guy stamped it and waved me through. They did that to all of us. There were a couple of ladies in those Islam robes, though, and they pulled them, and their families, off to the side. "Did you see that? How's that for racial profiling?" Tim asked. "I know," Brian said. "I never thought they really did that until I just saw it. That was outrageous." "Let's go get our grips and get the hell out of here. This place makes me nervous," Kyle said. The luggage came off the plane faster than the people did, and it was already on the thing by the time we got to it. "Is it okay to smoke in here?" I asked a guy who looked like a policeman or something. "Scusi?" he said. "What?" I asked. "Scusi?" he said again. "He don't speak English, dumbass. What do these signs around here say about smoking?" Kyle asked. "They all say no smoking, but all these people in here are smoking. That's why I asked him. And why didn't he understand me?" I said. "Young man, you may smoke if you wish," a lady standing next to me said. She was smoking, and she had an accent, too. "We Romans ignore the stupid signs. And educated people do speak English here. I take it you are from the United States? The South? Alabama, perhaps?" "Yes, ma'am, that's exactly where I'm from, but I live in Florida, now," I said. "And thank you." I stepped away and lit up a smoke. That would probably do me for a day or so, but, oh, that one was good. * * * I have always heard that Rome wasn't built in a day, and I could see why. There was a lot of very old shit there, and a lot of it was gigantic. We took a van in from the airport, and we had to ride around some in the city, dropping people off at different hotels. Ours was on the Via Veneto, which is the street where the American embassy is. Just down from our hotel, in fact. The embassy is beautiful, but you damn sure can't get close to it. They have a wall around it, and people had painted graffiti all over the wall. Some of it must have been in Italian, but I read some of it in English, too. It wasn't real pro-American, that's for sure. We decided not to take a nap right away. Instead we walked around some, just rubbernecking at the sights. It seemed like there was a church on every corner. We went into the Capuchin church that's on the Via Veneto, and I expected we'd get some cappuccino. But no. That was the creepiest thing I had ever seen in my life. The Capuchins are some kind of monks or something, and the whole basement of the church is decorated with the bones of dead monks. At first you couldn't tell what some of it was because the bones were arranged in fancy patterns on the walls and ceilings of the various rooms. When you got up close, though, there was no mistaking it. "This is the most bizarre thing I've ever seen," Kyle said. "Why you reckon they did this?" A man standing in the room with us heard him, and he said, "It was done as a way of reminding the friars of death. The Marquis de Sade visited here in the nineteenth century, and he loved it." That guy sort of chuckled, like that was supposed to mean something. We all sort of laughed a little bit to be polite because he must have thought he was being cute. I didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about, though. Our trip was going to be seventeen days altogether, which meant five days in Rome, five in Paris, and five in London. Plus, a day over and a day back. Some people like to go to as many countries as they can on a trip like that, but all the grown-ups we talked to who knew something about Europe said we'd be better off staying put in those three cities. Well, there was plenty to do in Rome, that's for sure. We did the bus tour thing, and that took us to all the ancient parts, like from the time of the Roman emperors. The Coliseum, the Forum, some temples, the Circus Maximus, and other things I don't really remember. We each had a guide book that gave us pictures of what it all looked like when it was still in good shape, but all in the world it looked like to me was a pile of rocks, especially the Forum. I didn't think it was all that great. "Somebody's got a damn good imagination, I think," Kyle said. "What you mean?" I asked. "Well, look at this picture. You see anything down there that looks like that? I don't," he said. "No. I was thinking the same thing," I said. "That's what archeologists do," Brian said. "They know how to figure out how stuff probably looked, emphasis on the probably." "Well, I guess," I said. They took us all over the place, and a bunch of times we had to get out of the bus and walk to where we were going because the streets are too narrow for the buses to go down. One of those was this gigantic fountain that was the biggest thing like that I had ever seen. They said it was the custom to throw money into it and make a wish. That was just a scam, though, and every time the policeman who was on duty there turned his head, some kid was in the water going after the money. I figured, 'What the hell,' though, and I threw a coin in. It didn't look like real money, anyway. "Did you make a wish?" Kyle asked me. "Yeah, I made a wish. Ain't that what you're supposed to do?" I said. "Yeah. What'd you wish for?" he asked me. I knew he was going to ask me that. "None of your business," I said. "Asshole," he said, and we laughed. "It won't come true, if he tells it," Tim said. "What I wished for was finding someplace to take a leak," Kyle said. One of the men in our tour group heard him, and he laughed his ass off. "Me, too, buddy," the guy said. The next place we went was like an outdoor restaurant for a snack, and Kyle and that man got their wishes.
I was so excited about being in Rome that I could barely keep still. Unlike Justin and Kyle, who considered what we were doing a vacation, I think Tim and I looked upon it as "travel," meaning an educational opportunity. I had done a lot of reading about the places we would be going, and I was prepared to get the most out of the experience. Tim had read a lot, too, so, between the two of us, we were able to tell Justin and Kyle what we were seeing and its historical significance. One place I had read about was the Spanish Steps. They were huge, really going up quite a high hill, and the Steps were close enough to our hotel that we could easily walk there. We went there at night to mingle with the hundreds of others, mostly young people like us, get something to eat, have a drink in one of the bars, and just feel "international." It was great! We went there two nights, and I think it must have sparked the romantic imaginations of all of us because both couples made love when we got back to the hotel. For Justin and me, it was some of the best, too. We went to a few museums. One was about the Etruscans, the people who were there before Rome became an organized empire. It was interesting, but all of the signs were only in Italian. I knew enough Spanish to make out some of it, though. A lot of the "museums" are really churches, and there are some enormous ones. I knew they weren't cathedrals, although that's what Kyle and Justin referred to them as every time. Several of them were basilicas, though, which just means it's an important church, not the church of the bishop, which the cathedral is. "It's nice and cool in here, ain't it?" Jus said when we went into the first one. "Where are the stained glass windows? It wouldn't be so damn dark if they had some of those." "Buddy, I think you find those in Gothic churches. None of these in Rome are Gothic. They're Romanesque, but it is dark, isn't it?" I said. Besides the main part of the church, there were chapels all around that were bigger than any church I had been in except St. Patrick's in New York. A lot of the important art was in those chapels, and they had light machines, for lack of a better term. You had to put coins in the machine, and bright lights would come on so you could see what was there. "This fellow Bernini was a busy boy, wasn't he?" Kyle said. "This is the fifth or sixth place we've been in that has had stuff by him." "Yeah. He was everything, too. A painter, a sculptor, an architect," Tim said. "See that one right there? That's St. Teresa in Ecstasy, and it says in the book that some people believe the face is modeled on the way his mistress looked when she had an orgasm. That's pretty cool, don't you think?" "I'm surprised they let that in a church," Kyle said. "What about his boyfriend? Is he in here somewhere? That's more what I can relate to." The thing about those churches is, they didn't have pews. They were just open. Some of them had folding chairs set up for Mass or whatnot, but they were clearly temporary. We had the number of Kevin's Uncle Ray, who is a Jesuit priest and a professor at a university in Rome. We had met him at Grandma and Grandpa's house at Christmas a couple of times, and he knows we're couples. He's gay, too, but, like Jerry and Vince, he keeps his vows. He spent the whole day with us one day, taking us all over the place. He made us call him Uncle Ray, and he was hilarious. He might be keeping his vows, but he wasn't above noticing and pointing out cute boys to us. We had a lot of fun with him. "Have you been to the Vatican yet?" he asked. "No, sir, we're going there day after tomorrow," Kyle said. "Well, you'll want to start with the Vatican Museum, and my advice is to get there well before it opens at eight o'clock. In fact, I'd get there at seven. The line will be very long, and it'll be hot standing in line at this time of year. There are bakeries and shops across the street from the entrance so you can get breakfast right there," he said. "Thanks for the heads-up, Padre," Kyle said. I could tell he really, really liked us, and he got tickled whenever one of us showed that kind of affection for him. He was absolutely delightful, and he speaks Italian like a native. That really helped, especially in the shops he took us to. "What's on the schedule for tomorrow?" he asked. "We're going to Florence," Kyle said. "Come and go with us." I could tell he was mulling that idea over. "Let me make a call," he said. He pulled out his cell phone and made his call. It seemed like half the people on the streets of Rome at any given moment were on the telephone, and their cell phone industry must be enormous. "Okay. It's all clear, and, if you'll have me, I can go with you to the Vatican the next day, too," he said. "When are you leaving for your next destination?" "We catch a fast train to Paris the night of the Vatican visit," I said. "It's the Eurostar." "Excellent choice, boys. It's about a fifteen-hour trip, but they often make better time than that. Did you book berths?" he asked. "Yes, sir," Kyle said. "It leaves at six o'clock, and we should be able to sleep most of the way there. That's what it says, anyway." "Oh, yeah. They're very comfortable. And it won't really get dark until around nine o'clock, so you'll be able to see some of the countryside through Tuscany and all," he said. "I don't know whose idea that was, but it's a excellent one." * * * The trip to Florence was pretty cool. It took a couple of hours on a tour bus, and Uncle Ray kept us entertained with stories of his travels. Evidently, he's some kind of international expert on the Bible, and he has attended conferences and seminars all over the place. He actually did Biblical archeology work in Israel for a couple of years, and he can read the scriptures in the original languages. "How many languages do you know?" Justin asked him. "Well, let's count them up. English, of course, Italian, Spanish, French, German, Hebrew, but ancient Hebrew. I can hold my own in modern Hebrew, too. Biblical Greek. A little bit of Aramaic, too. I guess that's about all. Oh, and Latin, of course." "Oh, of course," Tim said, and Uncle Ray laughed. He was so cute. "You said you can hold your own in modern Hebrew. You can't hold it in the other languages?" Justin asked in that deadpan way of his. Uncle Ray got it immediately, and he burst out laughing. "You're a cutie," he said, and Justin beamed. Michelangelo was the big art star in Florence, just as Bernini was in Rome. We went to the Michelangelo museum as the first stop on the bus tour, and we saw his work. The most impressive thing, of course, was the David. "Look at the hands on that sucker. They're huge, but the dick ain't that big, is it?" Justin said. It was an English-speaking tour, so I had to shush him a little. Uncle Ray was so enchanted with Justin and Kyle that he laughed at everything either of them said, and he did nothing to discourage them. I could tell he liked Tim and me, too, but those two are so funny and so -- I don't know, macho, I guess, without being obnoxious -- that people can't help liking them. "This sculpture was intended to be outdoors, and people would be able to look at it from windows in buildings above it, but from the back. That's why the hands are so big. They were designed to look like they were in proportion with the rest of the piece from up above," Uncle Ray said. "People would see the penis from the front and from the ground. It would have looked fine from that perspective. By the way, let's find out when and where the bus is going to leave tonight. We can go off on our own, and I can really show you the city. They'll spend a couple of hours or more in gift shops and a leather factory that gives the tour company a percentage of everything they sell to the tourists. You're not interested in that, are you?" "Hell, no," Kyle said. "I didn't think so. I'm not, either," Uncle Ray said. So that's what we did. We saw Florence under the supervision and interpretation of Uncle Ray. He took us to all sorts of out-of-the-way places, and he explained the history of all of it, too. He told us all about the Renaissance, the Medici's, Savonarola and his reign of terror, Leonardo da Vinci, and a whole lot more. Tim and I were soaking it in, and Justin and Kyle were caught in the spell of Uncle Ray, who is obviously a master teacher. "Uncle Ray, yesterday and today have been un-fu. . . unbelievable," Kyle said. "You were going to say un-fucking-believable, weren't you?" Ray said. "Yes, sir," Kyle said, slightly embarrassed. "Son, I'm a university professor. Who goes to universities? Young people. I hear that several times a day, every day," he said. "In several languages, in fact." "I know, but you're a priest," Kyle said. "That don't hold you back around Jerry and Vince," Justin said. "Are Jerry and Vince priests?" Ray asked. "Yes, sir. They're friends of ours," Kyle said. "Kyle, you won't offend me. I appreciate the respect you showed me just now, but if something slips out, don't be embarrassed. I wouldn't scream that out in St. Peter's tomorrow, say, but please don't be embarrassed," Ray said. "Okay. The man on the plane gave us about a hundred little bottles of Jack Daniel's. Why don't you come up and have a drink with us?" Kyle said. "You will take a drink, won't you?" He checked his watch. "Yeah. It's not too late," he said. It was about 8:30. "We'll get some room service, too," Kyle said. "Come on. Let's go."
Going to Rome with the love of my life and my two brothers was a dream come true for me. And then having Uncle Ray as a personal tour guide just made it that much better. I had been to Ireland and England once before on a trip with my dad, and to Germany, Switzerland, and Austria on another trip with my scout troop when I lived in California, but I had never been to Italy before. I had had a fantastic time on both those other trips, but I had been younger. From what I remember, though, those places are nothing like Rome. We spent our last day in Rome in the Vatican, and it was, to quote my boyfriend, un-fucking-believable. My God! The size of it! Ray met us at the Vatican Museum entrance the next morning, and he was right. There was already a substantial crowd when we got there at seven. "We were going to walk here," Kyle said. "I'm glad we didn't, though. The concierge at the hotel told us we needed a cab, and he was right." "Oh, absolutely," Uncle Ray said. "It's way too far from the Via Veneto. I mean, I walk that far often, but it would have taken you two hours. Are you boys hungry? We can leave a couple in line and the others can go across the street over there and get breakfast. I'm famished." "Do we eat over there?" Kyle asked. "No. We'll bring it back over here and eat in line," Ray said. And that's what we did. The thing that impressed me immediately once we were in the museum was the stairs. There were two gigantic spiral staircases, one up and one down. Each step was about ten feet across, and they were made out of marble. I had never seen anything like that before. The museum itself is enormous, but almost everything in it has a religious theme. One of the nice things, though, was that all the signs were in several languages, including English. We didn't know what a lot of the religious objects were, but Uncle Ray explained them. "Uncle Ray's incredible, ain't he?" Kyle said. "He's given me a new motto." I laughed. "Justin, we've got a new motto coming up," I said. "Let me hear it," Jus said. All five of us gathered up to hear the new motto. "Here's the motto: If you're a group of gay boys visiting Rome, find you a gay Jesuit priest, who has lived there for years and who is your grandpa's best friend, to be your tour guide." "Yeah," Justin said, with a thoughtful look on his face. "That one works, Kyle. That's going to be my motto for the rest of my life." Then, after a pause, "You dumb fuck." A lot of what Justin says isn't all that funny, if you were to see it written down, but the way he says it is so hilarious. We all laughed hard, including Kyle and Uncle Ray. The museum tour included the Sistine Chapel, and, I have to say, I was pretty under whelmed. It's just a big, bare room with plain wooden benches around the walls. I know that's where the pope is elected, so it's important for that reason, but the big draw, supposedly, is the frescos on the walls and ceiling that Michelangelo created. The thing you usually see in books -- God creating Adam by touching his finger -- is really quite small, and you have to look at a lot of stuff to even find it. I thought it would be on the back wall behind this tiny little altar they have in there. It isn't. It's in the center of the ceiling, and it's not all that big, at all. "We studied this place in art history," Jus said. "Frankly, I think it's a little bit gay." Uncle Ray howled with laughter, right there in the church. Of course, it was anything but quiet, with the number of people who were in there. When we finished in there, we went out into some kind of garden or quadrangle or something. Justin smoked a cigarette, and then we went into a gift shop that was run by nuns. I bought a few things in there and paid the young nun who waited on me. She didn't give me a receipt, but I didn't think anything of it. As I was leaving the shop, a big, older nun jumped me and accused me of stealing the stuff. At first she spoke to me in Italian. Then in what I think was German. Then in English. "Where is the receipt?" she demanded. Shit, the stuff was in a bag from the store. I didn't have a receipt. Then the young one, who had sold me the stuff, came up with a receipt in her hand. She spoke to the older one in German, and then the older one smiled at me. "Sorry," she said. "I thought she was fixing to eat you up, Bubba," Justin said. "I know. I did, too. I thought she was going to have me arrested for shoplifting," I said. * * * "Boys, we're going to do something that very few people know about," Uncle Ray said. "We're going to approach St. Peter's Square the way Bernini intended people to approach it. Follow me." He led us through some back streets that are off the Vatican property and into Rome proper. Then he marched us up a street that has the Tiber River on one side. That river is little more than what we would consider a drainage ditch. At the end of the street, all of a sudden, we saw the square and St. Peter's Basilica in all their glory. "Bernini wanted the pilgrims who came to Rome to walk down that street and to be startled at the magnificence of what they suddenly beheld," Ray said. "It's pretty effective, isn't it? Most visitors come into the square from the museum exit on the side over there, so they miss out on the experience." "I got to tell you, this is un -- you-know-what -- believable," Justin said, again in deadpan. Again, he delighted Uncle Ray. The church itself was like nothing I could have even imagined. I had seen video of it on TV and all, but that didn't begin to capture the size or majesty of that place. Whether you're a Catholic or an atheist, a Muslim or a Hindu, seeing that place is going to take your breath away. After we walked around for a long time, we went down to the crypt, where St. Peter's tomb is and where a whole bunch of the other popes are buried. We stopped at the tomb of Pope John XXIII, and Ray explained to us who he was. He's the reason, Ray said, that we now have Mass in English, instead of in Latin, and why a million other things changed in the Church. "Boys, the reason Pope John was able to cause all those changes is he called into session the Second Vatican Council. It was in the early Sixties, and Ed Foley and I were in high school. Our religion teachers weren't very astute theologically, except for the one we had our senior year. He made us read about the Council, and we discussed the implications of the Church in the Modern World, changes in the Mass, and a great many other things. It's because of what he taught us that I wanted to become a religious and a priest. Today, this man buried here is a beatified saint, and my high school religion teacher, Brother Antoine, is probably all but forgotten." Tears were rolling down his face, but I could tell they were happy tears, not sad ones. |