Im surrounded by the listless clutter from the tornado that went through the mini bar in my small hotel room in Genoa, Italy. To my right an expensive bottle of champagne that i didnt enjoy sits with its stupid lable leering onto my computer screen only to make sure I mention it. It towers above the midget bottles of Johnnie Walker, Tuborg beer, and something called Ramazzotti that tasted like Amaretto and Everclear.
I used to hate Italy, but after last night my mind has changed. I came in early this morning and had to jump a fence to get back into the hotel solidly landing on my bad knee. Touristy couples looked disapprovingly at my slovenly drunken appearance as I hobbled to reception and slurringly requested my room key. I slept an uncalculable amount of hours periodically broken up by shouting at housekeeping. All said, I seemed to have made it in ok last night, but ok is a relative word when you travel much.
Its roughly midnite I suppose. I havent been aware of time since I arrived. I have a flight to Milan in something like six hours and I am running low on blue footballs and am smoking my last cigarette. My hair is greasy and itchy and I have had a bloody nose for a week.
I am trying to decide if I should get out and wander the city. But that may jeopardize my flight and my ability to walk to the ticket counter at the airport. If you've ever walked into an Italian airport reeking of whiskey, nose bleeding, demanding a window seat and water, you may understand my situation. These counter ladies are a strange bunch.
Well I suppose if Im going to find a good Panini at this hour I may as well take a shower and brush the shit off my teeth.
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