White Night

ME & KATE POSING LIKE THE STATUES BEHIND US. I KNOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A WHITE NIGHT, BUT THERE WAS LITTLE LIGHT FOR OUR PICS

So the Italians have this thing in Rome one night every September that's translated to "White Night." Last Saturday Torinos decided it would be great to have one here during the period of the Games. The theory behind this event is that shops and restaurants are to stay open all night long, all the lights in the city are kept on and the night is no longer dark.

It's fun! It's Festive! Or not.

We headed down to where some friends were hanging out, drinking beers and people watching. When we got there and ordered beer for ourselves we were told "Basta!" That's one of my favorite Italian phrases (it means 'enough' and you do it with your hands out and palms open almost as if you're pushing something and in a loud voice). Last call. At 1:00 a.m. Not good. We have our beer and depart, thinking that perhaps we'll go to the Swiss House. Afterall, Kate was just there and knows EXACTLY where it is. Or not. Kate's friends departed leaving her, me and Charlie left to wander the streets in hopes of some food and drink. But, since everything was supposed to remain open through the night -- it's White Night you know -- it shouldn't be a problem.

After walking aimlessly down one street and up the next, we realize that Kate has little to no idea of where she was when she at the Swiss House. So we proceed to look for a restaurant. Herein lies the rub. White Night? Everything open until 6:00 a.m.? Are you kidding me!?!? This was a bad joke meant to bring out hundreds of thousads of people down into an area roughly the size of Acacia Park. We wandered in circles, covering each and every street in the downtown area until about 2:30. Shops? Closed. Restaurants? Closed. Neidermeyer? Dead.

We finally decide to head towards the train station. Surely something's open near there, right? As a sidebar: every block I hear Charlie's voice telling me that,"hey, there's a cab stand" or "there's another taxi." Something tells me he was tired and wanted off this ride. Did I mention all the people? Many drunken soccer hooligans also. One came up and tried to kiss me, but Kate and Charlie pulled him away ... or just stood there and laughed. It's not hard to figure out which direction they took!

We found a little coffee shop that was packed, but I managed to find a table while Kate and Charlie managed to purchase saandwiches for each of us. They would have been great cooked, but the little man behind the counter must have had a good laugh when they simply brought the un-panino'd (as in cold, not toasted) sandwiches back to the table.

Our gourmet experience behind us, it was now time to figure out how to get back home. Kate lives on that street so she ended up walking since now there were NO cabs to be seen and about 500,000 people trying to jam onto the buses and trams (think 4th of July following the fireworks on the National Mall). But wait! There's a media shuttle! Sitting there across the street!!! YES!!!!!! So we got back to the MPC, caught a cab and I was in my room with my head on my pillow a little after 4 a.m. Several other people from our office decided to experience a little Italian culture that night also, but it took them until 5 a.m. to get home. Turns out there were a lot of reporters who got sucked into the whole "White Night, everything's open until dawn" scamp. It certainly made for a quiet morning in the MPC.