Everyone is emailing to ask why I haven’t blogged lately. I’ve been rather distracted.
I should probably stop thinking so much … and worrying. I had a nightmare about Passport Control at Undisclosed Location, Europe. And I get even more confused when I’ve been up all night on a plane.
Drop Dead Gorgeous Immigration Guy: (Hey, it’s my fantasy and it’s sure as hell NOT Heathrow): “Bon jour! Ah! Italiano! Come sta?”
Tired and Confused Jeano: “Yo! Can we do this in English? The only things I can say in Italian are insults to your mom. Do I know your mom?”
This didn’t seem like an auspicious start to my Adventure Redux. Although when they locked me up in my dream, the blokes in jail with me weren’t Arabs; in fact, they all looked an awful lot like that new French President Guy, only taller.
Anyway, I decided I should be prepared for trick questions so I’ve been cramming.
Drop Dead Gorgeous Immigration Guy: (Wow! He looks a lot like Johnny Depp): “You come from Colli a Volturno? Who is the mayor?”
Smug Jeano: “The Il Sindaco is Alessandro Arcaro; the Vice Sindaco is Tomasso Angelone. He’s mio cugino.” This is possibly even true. Grandmom was an Angelone so I am probably related to Tomasso. I wonder if he’s hot; we’re probably like fifteenth cousins.
Undisclosed Location Official being officious in a British kind of way: “Where is Colli?”
I looked this one up so I am ready and can pinpoint it on a map if he happens to have one handy: “Colli is in the province of Isernia, which is in the region of Molise. The nearest big town where there is a Louis Vuitton Store is Campobassa.” I’m not real sure about the Louis Vuitton Store, but I’m dead cert about the Campobassa part. He probably won’t bother to check. For good measure, I add “My family owns the butcher shop.” This is actually true also. I always think that when you’re telling big whoppers, you should throw some true stuff in just to confound them.
Drop Dead etc: “Sing your national anthem.”
It gets a little tough here. I did download ‘Fratelli D’Italia’, and I almost have it memorized. I really like that part where you go “Italia Chiamo!” or ‘Italy Calling!’ I always think to myself…I hope the Repubblica isn’t calling the Philadelphia Consulate for help; nobody there ever fucking answers the phone. We would almost certainly lose the war with Albania.
Drop Dead Johnny Depp Lookalike: “Are you sure that’s the Italian National Anthem? It sounds like ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’ to me.”
Insulted Jeano: “Si! Si! Everything I sing sounds like Bob Dylan. I can’t help it. Wanna hear ‘Come Back to Sorrento’ next? It sounds just like ‘Everybody Must Get Stoned’.
I’m probably getting myself all worked up over nothing. Darling James assured me during a convo the other day that my ‘Pasta Passport’ is magical and smites Immigration Officials by vaporizing them instantly, just like Mt. Vesuvius.
I’m pleased to report that my excess luggage has arrived at it’s final, secret destination, and without any of those pesky little ‘search and seize’ pit stops at Terminal 4.
I had a date with Moshe Thursday night, (we went to an ultra-orthodox wedding) and a last date with DooWop Guy on Sunday night ( the Schmooze at the JCC and dinner). DooWop Guy burned a CD for me as a goodbye present; his favorite songs by Shirley Ellis, The Temptations and Smokey and the Miracles. Steve swore he would come over to visit. I sure hope not. “Gee, sorry. That’s the very week I’m going to Dubai with the girls. I hear the shopping is divine.” Hey, at least he didn’t take any goddamned pictures. He did suggest it…..some idea about me – and my mink coat. I have another date with Moshe tomorrow night; probably our absolutely last one. Really.
On the other side of the Pond… I mean in Undisclosed Location, Arrival Dos and exciting parties are busily being organized. Oz Ed and Clare had a barbecue for me. “Hm” I groused to BooBoo when she told me, “Isn’t the guest of honor meant to be at stuff like that? I didn’t get any of Ed’s Killer Hamburgers.” “No, Jeano” BooBoo explained, “You weren’t invited. Ed said it was ‘The Barbecue Before Jeano Came Back’, kind of like Pinkie’s ‘Bank Holiday Bash After Jeano Left’.” Robbie Lee had better not have been the musical entertainment, Oz Darling. Not only do they drive on the wrong side, their parties are backwards. I can only wonder what other special events in my honor are going on right now. “Jeano! Brilliant Do at the Ritz Eileen had for you! You would have been chuffed.”