The Time Portal 2: Escape in Time (2 page)
Bobby Boots loved hovering above the Earth, steering this big machine. He enjoyed flying. Many years ago, he had passed the million-mile mark, but since leaving his pilot’s position at a major commercial airline, his accumulated flight hours had slowed. Bobby and Lucky had grown up together and were still the best of friends. After the fall of the Twin Towers, Bobby was pretty pissed. He swore that someone would pay. Soon thereafter, he enlisted in the army, and given his experience, he was soon flying
F-16’s. For a few years there, he and Lucky had lost track, until that one day when Bobby received a call from Mickey, also a hometown boy, who was Lucky’s faithful right hand and sidekick and his CIA agent comrade. On the phone, Mickey casually asked what Bobby “was up to these days.” As luck would have it, Bobby was bored, looking for a challenge and was more than pleased to hear of Lucky’s offer to earn more money than he had ever made in his life, and as a bonus, get to reunite with old friends at the same time.
Instinctively, Bobby reached over, pushed the button that brought the aircraft’s landing gears down, and expertly guided the plane onto the tarmac at Rome’s Fiumicino Airport. Inside, the lines were long and taxing, but quite amusing, filled with native Italians signaling their words by expressively talking with their hands.
Ah, the Italians
, Lucky thought. There was something about them, something that you had to love.
The group finally cleared customs and, once outside, they split up to take several different cabs to the five-star Sofitel Rome Villa Borghese, located in the heart of Roma. They hastened to stow their luggage in order to savor every moment in the city of fountains, “The Eternal City.” Once outside on the Via Lombardia, they spent a leisurely afternoon strolling, taking in the sights, sipping espresso, watching the tourists amble by.
The following morning, they once again piled into several cabs stationed in front of the hotel and made their way over to the Coliseum. The ticket lines, filled with eager tourists, moved surprisingly fast. Tickets in hand, Lucky and his gang of sightseers shuffled up the stone corridors until Lucky came to a screeching halt on a reconstructed section of the ruins. Now facing the once infamous arena of death, there they stood, taking in the view. It was a sight to behold, a glimpse into history, a period of time known for greatness and yet known for its barbaric games. It was a magnificent structure, rising one hundred forty-four feet into the air, an architectural wonder, replete with marble pedestals, seventy-six entrances, and thirty-two elevators. It was a masterpiece of its time and remained so now. On this visit, Lucky looked at it with different eyes than he had during his time travels; this time studying its every crevice as he envisioned the grand structure filled with sixty thousand spectators, all seated according to nobility and rank. He could imagine the gladiators awaiting the Emperor’s signal as to their fate – die or be spared. Even though Lucky had witnessed the gladiators firsthand, there was no way he could impart this to his friends, no one but Mickey. Mickey knew it to be true as he had dared to accompany his friend Lucky on some of his excursions into the past. So there he stood, marveling at the present day
Amphitheatrum Flavium
, the iconic symbol of Imperial Rome, knowing what it looked like hundreds of years ago.
A rope prevented the group from traversing a partially restored portion of the sand filled arena floor. The new floor covered about a third of the length of the stadium and was there to illustrate the floor in its original form. Lucky couldn’t help but compare
il Colosseo
, in its early stages, to what it had now become. His eyes settled upon row after row of empty stone seats. He was disappointed. He gazed upward and visualized the statues, looking down from their sheltered alcoves, high above the heavily crowded boulevard, staring with stone eyes at the throngs of spectators entering the stadium. The life-like statues were works of art, marble from the quarries of Carrara, reminiscent of the one hundred forty statues that line St. Peter’s Square – marble brought to life by unknown artists. He felt privileged to have seen the statues in their original state. It was almost too much to absorb the juxtaposition of then and now. Unwittingly, Lucky wandered away from his friends as he continued to soak up its history. This marvel of architecture, the Coliseum, had given the world the first blue print for all the great stadiums to follow.
Lucky glanced down for a moment and his eyes settled on a floor area that appeared to be recently reconstructed. Sprinkled on top was a layer of sand illustrating what it must have looked like two thousand years ago. The sand, during gladiator times, was used to absorb the blood from those who were wounded or killed in the sport. Lucky had witnessed men die on these sands, this ancient killing ground. Suddenly, he felt uneasy and had the urge to flee. Lucky walked back toward his friends, asked if they had all had their fill, and if they were ready to head to Tuscany. He suggested they check out the novelty shops that line the ancient narrow streets of the historic city of Siena, accessible only by foot. Afterwards, they would travel the short, one-hour distance to Florence to avail themselves of her designer labels and fashionable shopping.
Legend has it that twin brothers, Senius and Ascanio, sons of Remus (of the duo Romulus and Remus who founded Rome) settled Siena; thus giving it its emblem of a she-wolf suckling twins. Statues of this sort were all throughout the city. History contradicted this mythology. It is written that in 30 AD, the Romans established a military outpost, called Siena, that blossomed into a small, busy trading post and when Italy formed a republic, Siena became part of the region known as Tuscany. Today, it prospers, thanks to its rich artistic offerings.
Lucky and the group enjoyed walking Siena’s narrow streets, visiting the small shops, taking time to inspect the multitude of T-shirts, suits, dresses, shirts, caps, ice cream and coffee shops. Siena remained an unchanged medieval city – mysterious, beautiful and exciting, with charming little stores built into the walls of the narrow walkways, each housing its own unique items. It reminded Lucky of his time portal travels to other places filled with merchants hawking their wares.
The group made its way to one of the tiny shops apparently owned by a female doctor – a very
attractive
female doctor. It was hard for Lucky not to notice. In one corner of the store was a display of knives and swords and sword canes that reminded Lucky of his merchant friend, Frederick, from twelfth century England. This was the man who had singlehandedly made Lucky the billionaire that he was today. Through Frederick, Lucky had routinely purchased medieval treasures, had brought them with him into the present, twenty-first century, and had sold them at numerous Sotheby’s auctions. Lucky loved this stuff, this intricate weaponry. He picked up one magnificent sword cane, in particular, and slowly turned it around and around, examining it from every angle. He was tempted, but decided against it. It made no sense, really. Why should he settle for an imitation when he could buy a priceless original whenever he so chose, simply by traveling back in time? No, any purchases in Italy would be for Italian goods and not even so much in Siena. He would save his shopping for Florence where there was no finer leather in the world than the buttery soft, Italian kind sold in that city.
The group was in no hurry to return to the States. With a friend like Lucky with unlimited resources encouraging them, they elected to tag along and enjoy the seventeenth-century villa that Lucky chose to rent, close to Siena. A comfortable van afforded them the ability to travel together as a group. It was a bit too chilly to take advantage of the villa’s pool, but it was close enough to Siena to walk and that was what they chose one fine morning. The walk took them past the beautiful Tuscan landscape filled with lemon trees, past fields of the largest sunflowers they had ever seen. Each day, the group explored a different area of Tuscany.
No trip to Tuscany would be complete without a visit to her vineyards, known worldwide. But first, as per a recommendation, they opted for a wine tasting of a different sort. Nico, the guide, sat in the passenger seat of the van and spoke loudly enough to be heard above the roar of the engine. In his charming broken English, he gave a brief history of the town they were about to visit. They arrived at the quaint little village of Manzano located about thirty miles from the heart of Siena and the villa. Nico parked the van on a side street and led his followers through the tiny streets. Unlike Siena, the small roads here were practically empty, devoid of tourists. The streets sparkled with immaculately well-kept homes and gardens. About a third of the way down, there was a long, narrow street that appeared to be the main road through the town. Nico put out his hand as a sign for the group to stop. He turned, walked down three steps on the left, and motioned for all to follow. Through an open door, the group saw a large cellar, filled with chairs, scattered all about the room. In the front of the room, there was a table with numerous bottles of wines placed on top. A middle-aged man and a woman stood behind the table and observed as groups from other various tour buses milled around looking for seats. The couple smiled and waited patiently for the room to fill. The man then introduced himself as Marcello and his wife as Eleonora. Once the guests were comfortably seated, Marcello began his presentation, stating that the wines were all made from grapes picked from local vineyards, bottled locally. First, he held up a 1988 bottle of Brunello di Montalcino, described the
sangiovese
grape, and gave a short history of the vineyard, describing the origins of its name after a walled fortress town south of Chianti, and eagerly pointing out that an American family from Long Island, New York owned the vineyard. He opened the bottle and poured the wine into large sparkling crystal wine glasses, one for each guest. Next, Claude demonstrated the proper method for wine tasting. He sniffed, took a sip, rolled it around for a moment, and then spit it out.
“I mustuh no drink or else I cannotuh doah my job,” Marcello said with a laugh. “But youah, youah canna drink. We spitta out only if weuh tastah wine all dayah long or weah need to givvuh score to the winuh.”
The room laughed.
“Good,” Mickey said. “’Cause I hate to see that wine go to waste.” The group laughed again. Well, the Americans did, at least.
It almost appeared as if Marcello was gargling at one point, but Nico, the guide, was quick to point out that it is called “swirling.” Nico reinforced what Marcello said by emphasizing that while a true wine tasting for rating a wine normally means not swallowing it, that today the group should happily partake and enjoy, as that was part of the experience. No dummy there, Lucky thought. The “tip”sier the guest, the greater the “tip.”
As each person in the room sampled the red wine, Marcello busied himself by opening a bottle of Burgundy. Eleonora, the woman whom he identified as his wife, explained its history and origins. From there, it was on to a bottle of Chianti and so it went until all of the bottles had been sampled, leaving the crowd quite pleased. The session ended with a rousing round of applause for the couple and their expertise.
Back in Siena, the annual flag-tossing event was taking place. Samantha had looked forward to this event, especially since she had seen the movie
Under the Tuscan Sun
, which was filmed in Siena. She remembered the scene in the movie where one of the principal actors, a charming young man, had participated in the annual flag tossing ceremony. Her eyes scanned the square to the place where the actors in the movie had stood and she looked up at the windows that were part of the background scenes. She remained riveted to the event like a little child at the circus. Lucky smiled. Even though he and Samantha were no longer an item, they remained close and he was happy to count her among his dear friends.
The week in Siena was drawing near and on the last day before departing, Lucky and friends piled into the van to journey to Florence. It seemed to Sam that many of the abandoned homes they passed, set far off the road, and spaced along the highway at various intervals, were very similar to the home that Diane Lane the movie star had purchased and restored. Sam was tempted to ask Lucky to stop the van so that she could find out how to go about buying one, but thought better of it and kept that to herself. She could do it. Lucky had made sure that she was well taken care of for the rest of her life. Her nursing skills and tender loving care had most certainly helped him through some of the darkest days of his life as he stared death in the face. Sam had always been there for him; stealing him away for walks, and stealing his heart at the same time. Lucky’s indecision about commitment had finally brought the relationship to a halt. For some time, there was no contact, but eventually, the two reunited, in friendship only. This trip had thus far been a true test of it all. So far, so good. They went their separate ways, yet met up at times to laugh, reminisce, and while sightseeing, they would even share a van seat occasionally.
As the gang approached the outskirts of Florence, Mickey fired up his computer, happily latched onto a wireless connection, and found a realtor for villa rentals. The realtor suggested they rent a villa close to town just as they had done in Siena. Lucky agreed and asked Mickey to have the realtor pick one as he would rather not waste any time visiting all that the great shopping metropolis has to offer. The realtor chose wisely and the group found themselves walking into a gorgeous, two-story villa situated on three acres of property, complete with pergola, gardens and outdoor Tuscan barbeque.
In Florence, they spent the better part of a week being tourists, doing what tourists do, exploring different sections of the city on each given day. One of their walks led them to a street dedicated solely to men and women’s clothing. There were at least two dozen stores displaying high quality Italian leather jackets, but Lucky and Sam never made it past the first store. Lucky tried on many different styles and colors until he settled on three jackets. Sam bought one red and one white, and also some stunning business suits. It was the perfect ending to a perfect Italian trip.
