|Trento is a small town far up in the hills north of everything. It's practically in Austria. People ski through the streets in summertime. I know it's a beatiful town, I know it is, I've heard about it, but it was dark, it was raining, and we went straight to the club. Oh, shit! Now I'm really remembering this night. What a fucking night!
But I forgot to mention lunch at Titiano's mother's house! That was a feast: I think there were ten of us, just the kids, and the parents cooked and cooked, and maybe Giovanna cooked, I don't remember, it's all a blur... and the wine was so good. We'd tried some of this wine at Lorenzo's, it's beautiful. So we had more and more! We tried the white! And we ate, and then we were given these homemade pastries with powdered figs and pastry and powdered sugar, and they were heavenly, and we got to take them with us. We ate them in the van all the way to Trento.
Again, we went straight to the club in the dark and the rain. And once again, we ate and ate. We ate a buttload, lined up at a table along the back wall, all of us and there was a band opening the show, very nice, playing a Trento-style version of What Goes On, but all very good and we ate, oh what... there was pesto! I remember the fucking pesto. And Matt got some playing cards at a truck stop somewhere, a truck stop! A fucking Auto-Grill! And we started to play cards. We didn't get far, but we started. And then people started to arrive, and the bartender, oh the bartender! She arrived, too.
At some point, after I'd had any number of drinks - wine, wine! Wine and beer! - we started to play. And, you know, it was okay - still practice at this point, really. Nothing spectacular, and I think Andy's paint-peeling squalls confused the Trento crowd, but enough folks hung in there that it was worthwhile. And then, after: the... the... what's that booze? what is it? Oh, hell, I can't remember. I'll figure it out and let you know. Anyhow, there was a fair amount of it, and there was Matt and I chatting with the bartender who leaned over the bar when she talked, and she sort of moved around in this... in this way. And after awhile this other bartender, this hot-blooded Italian guy, came over & talked to her for a minute or so. And then she left! That was it! That was the end of us. She kissed Matt and I on the cheek, and left. And Matt melted: "that's all I wanted! That's all I wanted, was a kiss on the cheek!" It was all very charming.
That night we slept upstairs from the club. Tim and Vickie had their own room; Andy, Matt, Agostino and I shared a room with two Cicilian grape-grubbers, one of whom was snoring up a storm when we got upstairs. Son of a bitch! We all climbed into bed. I even took a bath, a bath! And as we were going to sleep Agostino warned us: you think this boy snores? You wait for what's to come. You will know.
Agostino fell asleep before the rest of us, and... oh, it's hard to think of it. It's painful to recall. He started to make noise. And really, it was... you wouldn't believe it. You wouldn't believe it! Andy and Matt and I were laughing! We certainly couldn't sleep. I stuffed my ears with toilet paper, but nothing could keep it out, nothing! The pattern was: horrendous, wet smacking racket, gradually subsiding into absolute silence... and just as we thought, "oh, time to drift off to slumberland," SHHCHKRROONCK!!! and we'd JUMP OFF OUR FUCKING BEDS IN FEAR!!! We could not sleep. Not a wink!
Sorry to go into such detail. But it really was spectacular.
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