The Ugliest American I Ever Met: Travel Writing Contest Winner
Umbrellas strapped in tiny straight jackets stayed with the picnic tables that skidded across flooded St. Marks Square. We edged our way into Harry’s Bar and Grill, the only dry spot in Venice and bellied up to the bar. Grateful for seats, we sat down with a heavy sigh at the bar. The harried bartender scrambled to serve the shoulder to shoulder crowd. Patience brought us two bubbling Bellini’s—an apricot juice with champagne touted to bet Hemingway’s favorite libation. I toasted our good fortune with my friend.
We were on our second Bellini feeling “chumsy” and warm from the body heat in the room when the swinging front doors blew open. Gusts of cold air caused the group to rise in unison as though someone had pinched their collective bottoms. The door wouldn’t shut as more people huddled in the doorway trying to get out of the deluge. After unloading from the vaparetto with hair drenched and teeth clenched, Maury and Bernice elbowed their way into the bar. Bernice ruthlessly shoved customers out of her way.
“Get your fat ass off my foot”, she said, as she shoved a blond woman with her elbow.
The woman gave her a sideways glance. In a fair fight she could have flattened model thin Bernice in her bolero jacket and green satin toreador pants, but she just stepped backwards and bumped her with her bum.
“Are you going to let her get away with that?” Bernice demanded.
“C’mon Bernie lets just get a drink, I’m dry.” Maury replied.
Bernice straightened her five foot frame to its full height jutting her jaw out and glared at him. “Excuse me. I thought you might be good for something besides getting a drink.”
“What do you want, he asked—a Bellini?”
“Not one of those orange sissy drinks,” she said “give me a vodka gimlet”
Maury leaned over the bar almost knocking me off my perch and snapped long thin fingers at the bartender.
Bernice eyed my barstool as she opened the conversation. “How long have you been here?”
“A while, no rush to go anywhere is this weather,” I replied.
We just got in off the Orient Express. What a rip-off” she declared.
“Really, I heard that it has been beautifully restored.”
“Restored barn with no closets rattling down the tracks so loud you can’t hear yourself think.” she whined.
“Sorry you were disappointed.” I said
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“L.A.”
“That hell hole. We left there ten years ago. We live in Denver now.
“I can’t wait to get home. Europe is so substandard.” Bernice crowed in a loud, irritating voice.
“I’m sure all of Europe will be glad to see you headed back to Colorado.” I said, and ordered another Bellini.
Blessed with a double dose of genetic wanderlust, I love to explore. My pioneering parents took me to Alaska when I was thirteen where I became firmly grounded in nature. From there I journeyed back to proud California, where I obtained a degree in English Literature. Today I am a free-lance writer, based in Los Angeles, specializing in adventure travel. Lost Angel Walkabout-One Traveler’s Tales is now available on my website, Amazon book store and Kindle reader.
3 Comments
Hmmm. Interesting contest idea. Where can I see other entries?
Last weeks entry is also on the featured page title “Writing Contest Winner: Babble On by Nailah Hayward”
make sure to check out the video on http://exoticvisitors.com/travel-stories/writing-contest-video/
That piece mirrors a kind of relief so many of us have felt at some point while traveling. I foolishly went on a trip during the monsoon season to seek a wild and green Thai island in the Andaman Sea. I felt relieved over and over again as I managed to find shelter after riding on the back of a motorcycle taxi or on a flimsy fishing boat.