Just how lucky are Elephants?

So when a charming street hawker interrupts your and your friends whilst casually sipping the finest Chianti outside a cafe in Pisa, what should you do? Of course you say you’re not interested and they just go away. Problem solved.

It’s a gorgeous sunny afternoon in Pisa, Italy. A group of us had flown in just for the weekend just to go and see Steve Lukather playing in a small club in the town. Tickets were cheap, and so were the flights and hotel, so we though what the hell …

I arrived alone in the city mid-morning having taken a separate flight and typically couldn’t check in until 3pm that afternoon, so found myself at the only real attraction in town. Yep – I found a cafe serving beer so I stuck my headphones on and soaked up the atmosphere waiting for friends to arrive. The morning dragged on as it does at those times, so I eventually took a walk around the tower. The vicinity was festooned with market traders trading what can only be described as complete tat, and tourists all doing that ever so funny thing of pretending to hold up the monument as a cohort took an equally gut-busting photographic reminder of this incredibly unique angle. It was somewhat more amusing to me to take pictures of those people than the tower itself and I have a plethora of memories to last me a lifetime. How I snorted at those gullible idiots snapping up Leaning Tower plaster replicas, flags, bags and packets of fags emblazoned with the symbol of epic failure.

Still, I did manage to educate myself with the history of the tower and how the many attempts to straighten it all failed and they eventually decided to leave it that way and spend many more years and millions of euros making sure it didn’t end up as the biggest roadblock in the city. So there it was, and I was impressed.

The phone rang; it was Paddy – they were here, just getting booked in and would meet me at the hotel. Great – I can warn them about the crap market stalls and the cheesy tourists and encourage them to give it all a miss and let’s go straight to the bar. No chance. All the bars seem to be cleverly situated at the end of the market. That probably isn’t true, but it makes better reading.

So we wind our way back through the throngs and unwashed masses and eventually find a quiet outside table we can all congregate and catch up. Now mid-afternoon, and we had the rest of the day to get ready for the gig. Beers arrived, stories got longer and louder and the day just simply flew by. Magical; just what the Doctor ordered. But since he wasn’t there we ordered another round of beers.

And that’s when it all went wrong. At least, for me. At least, that’s what I believe. I think I was cursed.

By now, the intoxicometer was approaching ‘stupid’. Still a long way to go before it hit ‘comatose’ but was way past ‘gullible’. You see, there was this annoying lady of African descent who kept coming back to our table to ask if we wanted to buy beads, charms, loads of things, and it got to a point beyond annoyance into the realms of amusement before long but nobody waivered. But this is me we’re talking about, not any normal, sober, sensible person. Oh no. I cracked.

My logic was thus – if I buy something, she will go away. So I bought something. Don’t ask me what it was, I can’t actually remember. Probably a nice wrist band or something. Anyway, she had me. 5 Euros. I wasn’t going to be suckered in. I knew my rights. I knew I had to barter. “OK” I said and gave her 5 Euros. That definitely wasn’t what I was thinking in my head, but too late now. She smiled. That was good, right?

Long story short, I was now in possession of a “thing” I didn’t want and have no recollection of buying, but also I now had a “Lucky Elephant”. Yay! A miniature elephant shaped object that she threw in obviously realising I had suffered enough at her hands, and my “friends” for want of a better word. And then she vanished. Completely. We never saw her again. It was a moral victory but somehow I felt used …!

The elephant served us well for the next hour or so with everyone getting in at least one reference to it in almost every sentence – if nothing else, it was the focal point of the group for a good few hours.

The night was a great success. We hung out, we drank, we listened to Steve Lukather, we purloined a bottle of vino from some locals on the way back to the hotel and sat drinking it underneath the tower. It was well past midnight and we were having a ball. Great memories.

So happy and inebriated we all staggered back to the hotel, only a short walk from the tower but in our condition we must have doubled it at least.

I collapsed on my bed and felt a sharp pang in my buttock – the bloody elephant. Took it out and stood it on the dressing table, and check my 2 phones for the alarm – set for 8am as I had a 10 am flight. Sorted. To bed …

Dozily stirring the next morning I could hear my back up phone going bananas. Realisation dawned that I could not afford to lie in – strange room, strange head, strange elephant staring at me … I’m not in Kansas anymore, Toto. I looked at the clock. 8am. What?!!!

I leaped out of bed and headed for the bathroom where I found the backup phone, now silent. I gazed downwards. Still fully dressed from the night before. Panic. Think. Think. Think. Plane. 10am flight. Must be at airport for 9am at the latest. Calm down – check time. 8am. Cool! Plenty of time. Have a quick shower, teeth, check out, taxi.

Only when I went back into the room did I spot the clock on the wall. It said 9:05am. Huh?

Shit! It’s 9:05 – what happened? Realisation: didn’t move clocks forward when I landed yesterday so both phones still think it’s 8:05. F*&k! F*&k! F&*k!

OK – don’t panic – perhaps the plane is delayed – the airport is only 15 mins away by taxi, security, check in etc should be OK if they don’t close the gates before 9:45, I can do it. Right, that’s the plan – now run!

Hang on – why didn’t my iPhone go off at 8am/9am? Picked it up. It had. It was on ‘silent’ mode. Could this get any worse?

Bag (simple hold all with just the basics) – grab it. Teeth – quickly. Elephant – out the window. Who needs it? Right – go.

Flew downstairs, checked out and asked for Taxi – urgent. “No problem, 10 minutes”

10 minutes? OK I’ll wait outside. Opened hotel door and stood on the pavement. Nobody, and I mean not a soul in sight. Not a car, a street hawker, a taxi, a bird in the sky. Literally, nothing. I thought the world had ended. For me, it almost had.

I had to pinch myself that I was actually awake and a solitary jogger went past with an official number pinned to his chest. “He takes it seriously” I thought. Wonder where the taxi is? Another jogger with equal enthusiasm went past. And another, followed by a group of 3 more. Realisation dawned. This was an official race through the city, hence no cars. No cars means no taxis. No taxis means no flight. No flight means … the phone rang. it was Lucie, my wife.

“You OK?” she asked, innocently.

“Sure … erm, just on my way to the airport now.”

But I couldn’t keep it up, I had to spill the beans.

“You f*&*$ng idiot” was the last thing I heard.

Should go back in and ask what was going on and sensibly ask for advice? Or should I panic and start running towards the direction of the airport? Yep, you guessed it …

So 20 minutes later I’m at a section of road not cordoned off and I can see TAXIS!! Saved! Although now by my deadline I had only 5 minutes to 9:45am. Jumped in a cab, got to airport and ran through to check in without trying to look like a suicide bomber – could do without being shot today, I was already having a rough morning and still not fully awake yet!

Gates had just closed. That was it. Fail.

So, what to do? Information. Go to information and ask about flights back to UK today. Very helpful lady from British Airways said “Yes, no problem, that’ll be 575 Euros … “

“I just want a seat on the plane, I don’t want to charter it”

Apparently that was not an original comment at all – who knew?

Last hope – Ryanair – good old Ryanair, I’ve always loved them. Sometimes. Long story short again, bought a ticket for 150 Euros, flight in 2 hours.

May as well get a coffee and call Paddy. If nothing else it’ll be a laff. For them at least …

It was.

Turns out we’re all on the same flight home now to Stansted Aiport. Yay. I can continue to be the butt of their humour for at least another 6 hours yet. Penance, I felt. Deserved it for being stupid.

What I didn’t deserve was 6 more lucky elephants. How we howled with amusement as one after the other they all turned up at the airport and presented me with a parting gift each. They ran into the same African Lady opposite the hotel and decided there was only one thing to cheer me up. I am truly blessed to have such friends ….