Karl's Italian Adventure

Chapter 2-1

Karl’s Italian Adventure

By Terry O’Reilly

Karl Simons sat on the tour bus as it rattled

its way through the streets of Florence. It was the first day of

his Italy in Seven Days vacation. He’d never been to Europe

before. Never traveled much at all, but he figured a middle school

geography/history teacher ought to have a bit of practical

experience to share with his students. So, at fifty-one years old,

he set out on his first trip outside the United States.

Beside him was Myrna, talking non-stop as she

had ever since she had attached herself to him at breakfast when

she’d discovered he was single. Myrna was a dumpy, forty-something

woman from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. She had won this trip in some sort

of contest that the state had held for school staff. It was evident

to Karl, from the very first moments of their acquaintance, that

this woman was not the type one would usually find on an

academically oriented tour. Her knowledge of Italy and the European

continent was not even at a basic level. She complained that all

they were going to do was go to a bunch of dumb ass museums and art

galleries. The only thing she seemed to look forward to was a good,

authentic, Italian pizza. That was when she revealed to him she was

a school lunch supervisor. The contest was open to all school

staff, so she entered…and won. Much to the dismay of the

administration, Karl was sure.

The tour guide, a young, handsome Italian by

the name of Giorgio, was pointing out the sites of interest. The

bus rolled along to its destination of La Galleria

dell’Accademia, where the high point of the tour would be a

viewing of the famous David statue by Michelangelo.

“Don’t ya just love his accent?” purred

Myrna, although her heavy southern drawl rivaled any accent Karl

had heard recently. “And, he is so cute, don’t ya think so? Why,

I’d just love to give that sweet little butt a pinch.”

Ever since Myrna had discovered butt pinching

was the alleged Italian national pastime, she made a similar

comment about every attractive young man she saw. It wasn’t that

Karl didn’t agree that a good grope of Giorgio’s shapely backside

would be too hard to take, but he certainly wasn’t going to let

that piece of private information about himself out for

publication, especially to Myrna.

When the bus arrived at La

Galleria, Giorgio stood up from his seat behind the driver

and addressed the fifty or so tourists over the loudspeaker.

“We have arrived at La Galleria

dell’Accademia. You will have two hours to tour the museum. If

you will check your tour packets you will find there are two

tickets. One is for La Galleria itself; the second is

for the special viewing of Michelangelo’s David. We will

meet back here then in two hours, when we will travel to Café

Caracol for lunch. Does anyone have any questions?”

There were a few perfunctory enquiries

regarding the afternoon’s activities.

As they walked to the entrance, Myrna checked

her guidebook and said, “I’d like to ask why we’s goin’ to a

Mexican restaurant instead of an Eyetalian one?” She pronounced the

word Italian with a long i sound.

Karl imitated Gomer Pile, responding with,

“Well gohlly, you’d hardly knowed we was in Eyetally.”

His sarcasm was lost on Myrna. “That’s

right,” she responded and never cracked a smile.

Karl was more concerned that they only had

two hours to view the exhibits in La Galleria, than eating

pizza. But, then, he reminded himself, this is ‘Italy in seven

days.’

Once inside La Galleria, Karl

hoped he would lose Myrna, but she stuck to him like glue.

“These Eyetalians musta been a buncha

perverts. All these statues and pictures look like porn to me,”

Myrna complained as they walked among the sculptures and paintings

of nudes.

Karl rolled his eyes and tried to ignore her.

Was the whole of the trip to be like this? But then why should he

be surprised? He’d always had poor luck with things in his life.

For instance: the only time he’d flown home to Detroit to visit his

parents, his luggage had gone to Denver; ordering a cheeseburger at

Burger King; he often got the cheese, but no burger.

They walked along the main hall of La

Galleria, stopping occasionally to view a painting or

sculpture. He could see a lighted area ahead. There was a large

crowd of people gathering there. Over the heads of the crowd, Karl

got his first glimpse of Michelangelo’s David. A thrill shot

through him. Having seen only pictures of the famous statue, he now

was to see it in person. He’d always had a thing for the nude. He

wondered how many people came to see it for its artistic beauty,

and how many were there to lust after the perfect human male form

the artist had captured in stone.

“Attenzione,” came an amplified voice.

“Il giro del David del Michelangelo comincerà in cinque

minuti.”

“What’d he say?”

Myrna asked. “Why cain’t these feriners speak

American?”

“I don’t know,” said

Karl with a grimace at her ignorance. “I don’t speak

Italian.”

“Scusa,” said a pretty young woman standing next to them. “He said,

‘The tour of the David statue starts

in five minutes.’”

“Thank you,

ah…Grazie,” Karl said

with a smile.

She returned the

smile and walked away.

As he approached a domed area, he was asked

to present his second ticket. He did and, along with a large number

of his fellow tourists, entered the room.

“Good morning, welcome to the Tribuna

of David,” the docent began. “You will excuse if I am not as

good with your English.”

Everyone murmured that he was doing just

fine.

“Grazie,” he acknowledged the

acceptance of his attempts to speak to a largely American

crowd.

“Please, take your time and view this great

work of art by Michelangelo. I give you few minutes to view and

then to begin to tell you about this masterpiece of Renaissance

sculpture.”

Karl, along with the rest of the group, began

to slowly walk around the towering figure of David, second

King of Israel. People spoke in hushed voices, if at all. All

except Myrna, who commented loudly and frequently on different

aspects of the statue’s body parts, especially that ‘pinchable

butt.’ Karl was able to tune her out as he took in the beauty of

the magnificent work. He took in the contours of its muscular chest

and back, the round full buttocks and long, strong arms. Coming

around to the front of the statue, his eyes fell on the beautifully

sculpted genitals. He felt himself plump in his boxers.

“If I can have your attention please,” the

docent said. The crowd slowly stopped moving and turned to hear

what the handsome young man had to say. Karl stopped to the left

side of the statue and looked up into the youthful, handsome

face.

“Michelangelo’s David was commissioned

in 1501 and was completed in 1504. It was unveiled in La

Palazzo della Signoria. In 1873 it was moved here to

La Galleria dell’Accademia in order to protect it

from the effects of weather.”

As the docent continued, Karl moved slowly to

the front of the statue.

“It is sculpted of Tuscan marble.” The docent

continued talking, but Karl was barely listening. He was staring at

the eyes of the statue as he slowly moved from the side to the

front.

The eyes are following me, he thought.

No, that can’t be. He moved a bit more. They are

following me. How is that possible?

“Now do we have any questions? I will do my

best to answer, if I can.” The docent flashed his brilliant

smile.

A man raised his hand.

“Yes?”

“I am a Jewish rabbi,” a short balding man

wearing a yarmulke began. “King David was a Jew. He would

have been circumcised as prescribed by our religion. Why is this

statue uncircumcised?”

There were a few flutters of embarrassed

laughter.

The young docent cleared his throat. “That is

a frequently asked question. No one knows the answer for certain,

but it is speculated that Michelangelo’s model may have been

uncircumcised and therefore the Master was true to the reality he

saw before him.”

Myrna appeared beside Karl. “That

Michelangelo fella, well he was one of them there homasexshals,

that’s what, and that there statue here is his model who he had in

his bed.”

She nodded her head at the end of her

statement for emphasis.

Karl turned and looked at her. “Where’d you

hear rubbish like that?”

“Them guys over there. And they would know.

They’s teachers!”

“Well, I’m a teacher, too,” Karl retorted.

“And I say that’s a bunch of rubbish!”

Myrna shrugged her shoulders and walked

away.

Karl looked up at the face of the statue. The

eyes were still staring into his. Why am I defending you? After

all it would be great to think you were getting it on with old

Michel. Karl laughed softly. Did you just smile at me?

Karl thought, addressing the statue. Then he admonished himself.

Man, you’re losing it!

The crowd began to thin out and left the

Tribuna. Karl was reluctant to leave. He turned at the

entrance and looked back one last time.

Well, goodbye, David. I wish you were real.

I’ve never had a boyfriend or a friend of any kind I could love.

I’d love to meet a guy like you.

The eyes still held his. Karl shook his head

and left.