Pink Doublewide. Okay, to be fair, it was mauve. Do those boys even know what mauve is? Well, it's the color of the Doublewide. Is Doublewide two words?
Robert is a relatively quiet human being. Quiet and chill. So quiet and chill that when he does finally open his mouth, you listen closely. Robert is also a fan of comfort. The sofas in the doublewide were not beautiful by any means, but they were covered with the softest, billowiest, smooshiest cushions your ass ever felt. Robert is a tall guy, too. He just kinda reminds me of a big dog that doesn't make any sudden moves or bark too loud. But he's a good guard dog, super lovable and loyal. Hope you don't get offended, Chum Chums, for my comparing you to a dog, but you know I mean it in the nicest way.
My favorite story about Robert took place in Siena. He and Della and I were sight-seeing in the quaint Italian village when we found ourselves ready for some snacks. Pizza you buy on the street is amazing in Italy. It has unusual toppings like ham and corn, or roasted potatoes. After a long afternoon of walking, we purchased all different slices of pizza, wrapped them in paper, and decided to find an eating spot. We trudged through to a shady spot near the town cathedral. We leaned up against the wall, taking a much needed break, and opened our tasty pizza packages. We each chomped down and enjoyed our first bite. Then, Splat! Split! Spl-pl-pl-plop! PLOP! It took half a second to realize we were all being pooped on by a very full pigeon. The pigeon managed to get poop on everyone's head, shoulders, and all over our long-awaited pizza. During our initial shock and dismay, an American tourist with a very heavy southern accent leaned toward us and said, "Y'know, they say that's good luck!"
And then we all burst into hysterical laughter. Della got the worst of it in her hair, and she was understandably upset, but Robert gently poured some of his bottled water into her bangs. He was so tickled, he couldn't control his chuckling. It was all he could do to keep from doubling over with laughter. The thought of that day still makes me giggle.
Later that trip, the same group (plus our friend, John) broke off from the pack to stick around in Rome for a few more hours than the group. Della and I had already been to Rome, but I didn't get to see La Boca Della Verita the first time. Being a huge Audrey Hepburn fan, I had to see the landmark made famous by Roman Holiday. We were in a race against the clock. We had a mile to walk, and only about 15 minutes to do it before Bocca closed. We jogged through cobblestone paths, and the boys held back oncoming traffic so that we could run through the streets. After huffing and puffing, we made it. It was in sight. We ran to the door. A kindly priest walked up to the entrance and SLAM! He closed the gate in our faces. Mere seconds away from our destination, we begged the priest to reconsider. Italian priests don't mess around, though. We were out of luck. We took photographs through the wrought iron gate. After seeing a few more sights, we braved the Rome train station. We purchased tickets, found our train line, and ordered McDonald's without knowing a lick of Italian. It was a little scary, but once our butts were in our seats, we celebrated our bravery. We all got back to our hotel in one piece, had a cocktail together, and swore that we would always remember that day.
I have lots of fun stories involving Chum Chums, but I think Italy was when I first really felt like we were buddies. We also have the Cider Jazz bond. So he's family.
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