Fantasy #1 - I am on a backpacking trekk through Italy by myself, at my current age. Spending a few days in Venice exploring the city maybe take a gondola ride with one of those 'cute' gondaleers. It is lunchtime on a beautiful spring day, blue skies shining on me. A quaint little bistro across the foot bridge from my hotel with outdoor tables shaded by pale yellow umbrellas. I walk over there and ask to be seated at a corner table. As I sit down I catch the glance of a older gentleman (you??) And I respond with my smile that'll melt his heart. In his return grin I noticed a bit of marinara on the corner of his lip, being polite doing the universal sign of a napkin swipe. He mouthed "thank you, could I join you?" I nodded yes exuberantly!
He was wearing a mint green silk shirt and white pants. The one thing that struck me about his wardrobe was the weathered Fedora he held in his right hand. Once arriving at my table, I stood up to greet him, shaking hands and offering a seat right across from me. As we talk I eat my lunch and we toast a glass of vino. The Fedora now laying on the table almost like another character in the story. I said, "are you an archaeologist, Dr. Jones, Indiana Jones?" He replies, "oh, that old thing, it was my father's and grandfather's before that." The exceptional story that I would find out later is that the hat has been on all seven continents and several Seas in between.
Pushing my plate away and leaning back in my chair the waiter comes over laying bill on the table, offering a myriad of desserts. Declining, I reach for the check, you put your hand on mine and whisper "dessert, you will get." I still pay, though. We get up to leave, I grabbed your hat and placed it on your head. This brought the first peck on the cheek of our meeting.
The sunshine is glowing high above our heads as we slowly meander away from the shade. I pause on the cobblestone as you walk a few steps, to admire your derrière. You catch me in your peripheral vision giving me an extra little waggle. Crossing, over the footbridge brings us to the front of my hotel. The hesitation in our goodbye hug was strongly evident. "I will never forget you," and in my best Bogart voice, "we'll always have Venice." Then you tell me the Fedora story, "it was a pleasure meeting you." You open the door and we depart. Climbing the stairs to my second-floor room, heart all aflutter, I hear the telephone in my room ringing. I rushed to the door, unlocking and flinging it open. Without closing the door, I pick up the ivory receiver. "Hello..."
fade to front desk...
"Pardon me, sir is your room satisfactory?" My hopes were dashed in who would be on the receiver...hanging up and spinning around on my heels. I am flabergasted to find you standing there, arms spread for a hug.
