Wednesday, December 12, 2012

When in Rome, A Short Story

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Left to right: Christopher and Nico at Animal Kingdom Walt Disney


December 12th, 2012

Everyone has a story to tell when they return from vacation. Like,"I caught a fish this big..." I knew I would have something to write for my Adventures of Captain Imperfecto blog to share with you, my reader. So sit back, relax and let me tell you about this walk in the downtown area of San Francisco... 

My dad kept telling me since I arrived in California, "you have to go on the Trolley car, it's a must do in San Francisco. When in Rome son, When in Rome!" 

"But dad, you've never been to San Francisco or Rome."

"That doesn't matter!" his voice shouting through my cell phone.

After days of wandering throughout the city streets of San Francisco I thought I knew how to get around. I was becoming one with the city folk regulars until I found my self lost while I was trying to find a local movie theater. I was on a mission to see Sky Fall, but James Bond I am not so I failed this particular mission.

I was tired and hungry and my feet hurt when I found myself face to face at the Trolley-turn-about, near Market Street. My dads voice rang in my head, like a whisper over your shoulder, "do it," his voice said.

So I ponied up the 6 dollars (one way) and took the ride on the Rice-a-Roni street car named, Desire. 

I jumped on-board among the other tourists, who burst through the heavy chain dividers, by leaping over them with all the grace of a track star in training for the hurdle event in the Olympics. They ran with vigor towards the old fashioned metal trolley car.

My ride definitely had a classic appeal to it. It looked like an old train caboose with outside seating. The benches were a mustard yellow. Parallel to them were while poles affixed to the side so riders, mostly tourists, can hang on to them with dear life and do their best impression of a trash man. The mostly red color allowed the trolley to stand out from the rest of the public transportation. 

I was able to work my way up front where I was gripping the white coated steal made bar tightly, waiting to hang off the edge of a perfectly well insulated moving vehicle. Ordinarily, I would have better judgement but hell, I was on vacation so when in Rome, right? Although, this wasn't Rome. 

The gripping pole was cold because the night air was a chilly 40 degrees. I wasn't wearing gloves because I live in Florida and I obviously don't own any. So, I toughed out the weather because I wanted to make my dad proud. I gripped tightly as the driver of the Trolley car rang the bell twice.

"Ding, ding."

The car begin to roll upwards on the track towards the main corridor. The metal track that the wheels ride on is embedded into a cobble stone ground. We made our way towards Union Square. The main area where people congregate and enjoy the Time's Square impression this city has to offer. The night was beautiful. The crowds were full of life. The streets spoke as we rolled on through the glitz of the lighted signs and through the thickness of the voices that rang out from the hoards of people. The only thing more loud was the friction from the metal on metal as we made our way through this crowded area.

My dad was right. It was worth hanging on to this trolley car. My feet were firmly planted on the 1 foot ledge that was welded to the side of the frame. I loosened my arms and allowed my torso to move into the outside space. I jammed my head out in the wind enjoying the crisp air as it passed around my 6 foot 2 inch frame. Now I see why dogs love this kind of freedom. I sprang on my knees like a baseball player in the batters box. I was having fun.

The driver of the car was in the middle of the trolley working the ride with a large brake handle that was in the center of the trolley. He would use this brake to slow the cart down or stop on an "x" situated on the roads asphalt. It was the launching point every time we had to start forward again.

As we moved away from the city the car began to thin out as people got off at stops along the way. With an empty seat in front of me I decided to shift my hips and take a seat with much relief to my knees. I still had a great view from where I was sitting. The night was going so well.

The trip rolled on and we began to pick up more passengers throughout this golden city. 

People clamored for better seating but most people jockeyed for the white poles and their chance to hang out of the San Francisco Cable Car. And why not? Its all about the experience. And who doesn't want the experience. Hell, my dad is 3,000 miles away and wants the experience.

As we rolled on to the next scheduled stop a short man, about 5’ 6”, worked his way to where I was sitting and the white pole that was mounted right in front of me. 

His hair was trapped in a 50’s time warp. He was still sporting a flat top or buzz cut. His thick framed glasses reminded me of something the singer Buddy Holly would wear. He was in his late 30's and he was true to his coolness, wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. His port belly was protruding from the bottom of his shirt and his hairy flesh was exposed and practically sitting in my lap. I know now what it is like to be pregnant. 

“Yahoo!” he shouts as the trolley moves forward, "yeah!"

The conductor rings the trolley bell again as we move to the next stop. My port belly friend still squealing with delight as the wind bounced off his flat hair.

“Come on trolley yeah!” he announces out loud, while he bounces his heavy torso on his knees, grooving to the sound of the steel wheels rolling down the track. 

“Yeah baby!”

The trolley made a stop in the club district. Scantily dressed women are moving about and through the traffic causing delays of all the cars.

“Hey baby, yea, that’s what I’m talking about,” the trolley rider yells, tilting his head and peering his eyes over the top of his thick lenses double black framed glasses.

“Yea, I’m right here,” he says. In case the women overlooked him.“I’m a winner, lovely thangs,” he announced with all the confidence of an Adonis
In his excitement, his belly would flop off my lap, at least I was hoping it was his belly. He could hardly contain his excitement at it began to boil up from the bowels of his huge stomach. I sat in my seat trapped. Every time I would try and get up the bulging bowling ball would push my back down. Then my phone rang.

“Chris!”

“Yea, dad, whats up?” I asked.

As my dad spoke my fat Buddy Holly clone shrieked for joy! “What the hell was that?” my dad said sounding concerned.

“A gladiator dad, a gladiator. You know how it is, when in Rome.”

"Ding, ding."







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The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Swim to Survive

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Left to right: Christopher and Nico dry docked 
* minor cursing

December 10th, 2012


I always found pleasure in my underwater paradise. To swim beneath the surface of the sea and play among the life inside her wet wonderland has always gratified my need to relieve my stress from a long hectic day. The beauty of the ocean is as majestic as the sun that cast a glare of light off her vast canvass. Life down here is beautiful and can be considered in its own right, Nirvana.


The sea creatures are equally beautiful in the water in which surrounds them, encompassing them like a cocoon. Finding such beauty under the blanket of blue liquid is not rare. But if you heed the old saying, "stop and smell the roses," every now and again, you can marvel at how beautiful Mother Nature can create these sea life animals. Every part of their anatomy somehow flows with the basic needs that a species needs to survive here, that Nature herself has intricately placed the survival needs right where they belong so that they can survive in their environment.


If you don't believe me, you'll just have to come under the sea, to see heaven for yourself.


The live coral builds itself up from the seabed’s sandy foundation, like the Rocky Mountains that rise from the ground of the western United States, up towards earth’s hemisphere. But unlike those mountains of grey and brown rock, these coral are colorful like a rainbow. The rock like formation grows and forms into its odd shapes, as the edges of the reef reach up towards the glaring ultra violet rays produced from up above by the burst of sunshine sent down to them from the sun, as the light penetrates the oceans deep blue surroundings like sharp daggers and touching the corals rough surface as it fuels their growth.


The rocks form caverns so all sea forms can find safety and shelter from their predators. Or so they call lie in wait for their pray. But life perseveres. Life here goes on.


But I am far from their predator. I love to play in these rocks. My scuba gear allowing me to swim around in their watery playground, beyond my lung capacity, so I may watch the colorful fish play a game of peek-a-boo with me, because they are scared of my large presence. When actually, I'm in their way and I just really want to watch them play.


The only fish I can’t see are the ones that Mother Nature blessed with such color, to coordinate with the corals vibrant color, where they can hide right in front of my eyes. Like life, seeing is believing and if you can’t see them, are they there?


Their camouflage protects them from creatures that want to eat them. It's such a cruel world, in this water world of paradise, much like the land mass that I come from, where a predator can come along and change things in an instant. But despite the fact of a possible death, the fish continue to do what fish do, because well, life goes on.


Funny, I can find such beauty down here in their harsh environment, knowing that one of these fish, that bring me such joy, can meet a horrible end at any time and yet I use their beauty to escape the atrocities from my own world just a few feet above. Down here, in this water land it is truly, beauty and the beast. And up there, where I’m from, in another unforgiving world, life is truly a dog eat, dog world.


No matter where I am in my travels or how hard I try to lose myself in my scuba gear, I cannot hide from my fate or the past. It doesn’t matter how deep I dive in this sea or into the darkness of the ocean because the problems I have been trying to avoid are there waiting for me at the surface.


I decided to try and maintain a depth that a snorkel will allow me to see life from up above and hope that the clear blue water will show me the bigger picture of life with HD clarity and leave the tanks of air on the boat and forget diving into the past.


I figure I can stay in the shallow end of the lagoon and forget about the dangers of the ocean, because the less depth I have to deal with the better. And hopefully this area will allow me some sort of balance in my life with greater control that this shallow area has to offer.


Life can take over you and control how you function, like a current’s under toe pulling you in the direction it wants you to flow, and if you allow it to pull you in that direction it will dictate how you’re supposed to feel. And it’s so unfair when you feel like shit all the time because of the events that unfolded in your life. Those events are out of your control. Like the vast ocean, it’s hard to find cover from the evil that lurks out there in the beds of the coral reefs. Although I try to avoid life’s confrontations utilizing whatever camouflage that’s available at times it’s not enough.

Life is too short for bullshit.
The good thing is that I am a strong swimmer and life still seems to find me. Even though it wreaks havoc on me mentally and physically, like the surf that pounds a coast line and erodes the sandy beaches, I push on, towards the horizon and hopefully good things that are waiting for me.


But I swim damn it. I swim in my slice of ocean that has been carved out just for me through life’s lessons, time and age. I try to avoid the bad by leaving the worst moments behind me in my wake. But the task of leaving things behind can be daunting and I find myself where I left off because I allow it to drag me back to sea. In the thoughts of playing in the coral reefs is just a dream that I try to relive over and over but still, it’s just a dream.


You have to swim to survive. You have to swim to succeed. You have to swim to your dreams or risk being left behind. Ride the wave of life and leave the depths of the ocean for the fishes. Life up above is waiting.





Creative Commons License


The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.