High Class Evening: Milan Part 2

Forget what I said about the castles and the churches. They’re pretty, but Milan has the soul of a city. Traffic moves fast, people are rude and the billboards are pornographic. After an extremely productive day at work, I spent a really boring evening here in room #402. After sacrificing the last 3 hours sending email and drinking beer from the mini fridge, I can only wonder how many Euros those Heinekins cost me?

This is how Curtis Green rolls on a Friday night in the world’s fashion capital— crushing aluminum cans on my forehead and contemplating whether to give the bidet a try in the morning. Damn right.

How does it work?

Welcome to fairytale land.

Churches and castles in Milan.

Mad dash through Rome.

After a day in the air and a night tossing and turning on a stiff twin bed in an ancient hotel room, I awoke at 5 AM with the intention of seeing as many Roman landmarks as possible before our casting work began at noon. I was quite successful.

Having already been to the Trevi fountain the night before, I was determined to see the Coliseum. And the Pantheon. And the Vatican. Armed with Rick Steve’s 2006 Guide to Italy and my trusty digital camera, I headed off into the early morning air. Alone in a strange city.

As I began to wander I was overwhelmed not only by the site of green grass, but the incredible task of conquering so many sites in such a short period of time. It was time for espresso. I had one. Then another. And finally with my third, I was wide awake and ready to play the role of tourist.

Here’s a brief photographic overview of the many things I spotted. Enjoy. I certainly have.

Market near Trevi fountain

Street near Coliseum

The Coliseum

The Pantheon

The Vatican

St. Peter’s

Going back to Italy.

Another advertising adventure brought to me by Barilla pasta . . .

Sitting here watching it snow from the front window, goose bumps crawl up my arms. Not because I’m cold, but because I feel so blessed for all the excitement and opportunity that has come my way over the last 29 years. I wish I thought it had something to do with brains, but I really believe the main factor here is an incredible amount of luck.

I plan to regularly update this random collection of thoughts with stories from the road. Hopefully this is a touch more entertaining than the last few months worth of Red Line reports and dog walking diaries. Even if the words don’t draw you in, at least the pictures will be pretty. Well, if I can avoid sitting on my camera that is.

Until my next post, ciao.

Tax season.

Little numbers. Piles of paper. Fine print. Personal questions.

Jez was the real victim here. She couldn’t even leave her bed because a stack of important financial documents kept her locked in place—where she was when the chaos began.

And outside the sun was shining bright for the first time since August.

Lorenzo’s late.

Every morning I ride my bike by North Avenue Beach near that odd boat shaped building where people go binge drinking in the summertime. Recently the parking lot has been filled with construction vehicles. Apparently the boat needs some work.

Yesterday, as I made my way around the bend, I heard someone honking like a wild man. I figured with all the jerky drivers who race each other to get their rightful place on Lakeshore Drive, there was a wreck. But I was wrong. Instead of carnage and crushed fenders, I came around the corner to discover a man in stretched out purple pickup sitting at the pay booth entrance to the parking lot laying on his horn. In silver letters on the back window his name was prominently displayed ‘Lorenzo.’ He was stuck behind the yellow arm and therefore couldn’t get into the lot to deposit his purple truck. On down the line, ten other trucks and vans were already parked with their engines growing cold.

Poor Lorenzo, I thought. You’re late for work and between that yellow arm and the fact that your last name is scrawled across the back window of your PURPLE truck, there’s no way you’re sneaking by the boss today.

Time for the Al Green (no relation).

Fire up the turntable and hope for some ‘Love and Happiness.’

Cat hunting dog.

I saw two posters for missing cats on my walk with Jez this morning. Both of them offered rewards. Too bad cats are generally afraid of dogs. Otherwise, Jez and I could go cat hunting, collect the cash and I could afford to buy Cristi a Valentine’s Day present.

Sometimes I love this greasy, grungy city.

Screw advertising, I want to be a superhero.

Tonight, as I walked Jez through the slush and snow of yet another Chicago snowstorm, I saw a man trying to push his car out of a large snowbank. We crossed the street and I tied Jez to a small tree. I joined the man at the front of his car. He looked over at me, a bit alarmed.

“Can I lend a hand?” I asked, as I knelt down below the bumper and pushed.

In the car, I could see his wife behind the wheel and two kids sitting in the backseat. They were all bundled up tight and cute.

With little effort we freed his car from its spot and everyone smiled. The man thanked me twice. But in reality I wanted to thank him. You see, I felt better at that moment than I had the entire day.