At this point it was three in the morning, and we decided we all needed food in order to continue trekking. Nothing was open, but we smelled something… delicious. (Think Nabisco factory while driving through Fair Lawn) In our foggy states we followed the scent to a bakery where we peeped in to find tray after tray of freshly baked bread. Never ones to hold back, we yelled into the mysterious breadtopia. A savior emerged. We asked him to spare a roll. He seemed happy to help us. He disappeared and came back with a huge white bag of every kind/size roll you could possibly want. Thank you, kind stranger. We promised that we would go to town on our food when we got home to our olive oil, salt, and pepper.
With our sack of bread in tow, we dropped off our pilot friend at the Realto. We tried to explain to him how to manage his way from there, but we all knew chances were, he had quite the journey ahead of him considering it was his first night. (We later learned he got so lost, he waited until a kiosk opened so he could buy a map. He walked in a few hours after the sun was up. Poor kid.)
We were getting very tired and decided to seriously focus on getting back to the apartment. It had been raining on and off all night, so puddles were forming everywhere leaving our feet wet and muddy.
It was then Kim decided she needed to wash her feet.
Looking like the female Father Christmas, she slung our precious bread bag over her shoulder and approached the steps leading into the canal. It was wet. It was covered in lagoon growth. It was slippery. One step. Two step. Three step-
PLOP.
Ladies and gentlemen, she took the plunge.
Our loaves went flying, and she was sucked into the canal. I’m talking head just above the water, doing the doggy paddle trying to keep her face above the sewage water. Now, Kim is New York City savvy, never loses her cool kind of chick. So her expression was truly priceless. Her face went from pure shock, to the realization- holy shit, I’m submerged in poop. She tried to pull herself up, but she couldn’t get a grip on the edge because of the algae. I ran over to lend her a hand. I tried my best to be careful. However, staying dry wasn’t in the cards for me either. I ate it. My bottom half was totally in. We were Lucy & Etheling it. Christa came over, grabbed both of our hands, and pulled us out. Tell me that didn’t just happen.
As if it were a crime scene, our twenty loaves of bread floated where our dignity was murdered.
Sopping wet from the toilet water, we ran home whimpering like little girls.
We suspect that we will start growing webbed feet and dorsal fins within the next 24 hours.
Stay tuned.
Our stomping grounds, Eddie’s
The man who started it all, Eddie (am I right about Tom Cruise/Josh Hartnett or what?)
Revisiting the grave. It drops off right after that last visible step.
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