It was nearly 3am when Chris came home. Our little dorm room in Rome always smelled vaguely of human feet, especially when Chris occasionally bathed. I could never grasp why the act of bathing fostered an increase in airborne fungus, yet it never failed.
I have always been a light sleeper, so the stumbling idiosyncrasies of an intoxicated man attempting to be quiet suggested a water buffalo had entered the room rather than a diminutive biped.
I tried my best to pretend to be asleep as I was not in any frame of mind at that time to be regaled by Chris’s exploits in the eternal city. Unfortunately I shifted just slightly and like a hyper-sensitive creature of the night Chris turned to me and spoke:
Chris: hey man, sorry to disturb you
Me: its cool I was awake anyway (lying)
Chris: I was in Rome tonight
Me: I guessed that
Chris: (drunk giggle) man, I met a girl
Chris: I was in Piazza Navona drinking with some kids I met (kids was euphemism Chris liked for people our age) and there was this smoking hot woman having a drink and watching me
Chris: anyway she came over to where we were drinking and I gave her a pull on my Heiny (large format Heineken) and she sat down and tried to talk to me
Me: did she speak English?
Chris: nah man, we didn’t need words, I could tell she was hot for me and it was clearly “going to happen”
Me: what was?
Chris: you know man, you know what its about….so we got another bottle of beer and took it with us, it was almost midnight and she held my hand as we walked down the street. She had this apartment in a shitty old building worse than this one and we had to walk up so many stairs that I dropped the bottle and it clanged down real hard and I turned my ankle trying to catch it…it didn’t break (big yawn)
Me: you went to her house?
Chris: yeah dude, we made it in the front door and I opened the beer and it sprayed all over us. she took my shirt off really slowly and began washing it in the sink. I started rubbing her ass while she was cleaning my shirt and she turned around and started touching my chest…like a minute later I was fucking her on the couch and shit started breaking and falling from the little tables.
Me: what? you are lying to me dude
Chris: I could not make this up…she had stretch marks all over her stomach so I knew she had a kid somewhere maybe in the other room for all I know at the time. she was tight though and when I finished she started crying.
Me: why, because you were so small?
Chris: you know I’ll whip it out right now and show you small
Me: please just finish the story man
Chris: she starts turning on lights and showing me pictures of some guy and her. I guess it was her husband..she was just crying and I could not understand her…she started pointing to herself and saying Tuh-ray-zuh….her name I guess was Theresa (in American accent)
Me: did you tell her your name?
Chris: hell no…I pointed to myself and said “Soy Jack”
Me: you did not?
Chris: yeah, I figured I would not see her again and Jack seemed like a good name
Me: that is not Italian
Chris: I don’t know any Italian, I studied Spanish
Me: that is not even good Spanish
Chris: I don’t give a fuck man..she started looking at the pictures of the guy and pointing, telling me his name was More-Toe
Chris: yeah, that’s it
Me: Morto means dead!
Chris: oh….really?…..well I guess the dude was dead and she wanted a little lovin’
Me: Soy Jack huh?
Chris: I am really tired, I had to walk all the way to Piramide to catch the blue bus.
Me: you are very lucky you made it
Chris: yeah. I slept past the stop and had to ride the bus back..the driver was yelling at me and I just kept saying Vitinia.
Me: you passed our stop and had to go back?
Chis: yeah, so what, it’s what these guidos get paid to do
Me: whatever you say “Soy Jack”
I relayed the story to anyone who would listen the following day and while the tale was widely presumed to be false, the legend was born and there would be no stopping it.