Prelude to a story long over

[jack_babalon]

I'm sitting at a table in a little outdoor cafe in Sigonella, Sicily. I'm watching the Skeleton Parade pass me by. A religious procession is marching slowly down the street, and amongst the priests & congregation are dancing men dressed in skull masks & black body suits painted with white bones. The skeleton troupe is gesturing comically to the children lined up along the street. Smell of incense, motor exhaust & fresh ground coffee beans from the bar. I sip my beer defiantly, i'm only 18 and I have no idea how long I have here before they manage to get me a flight to my ship. It's November 1991. Jet lagged & scared. I feel the numb lonliness of being the only American in shouting distance come over me. There's a picture of my girl in my wallet I keep looking at. I can still see my Mom crying from a few nights ago before I got on the plane for the Gulf. I still haven't adapted to the jet lag and my internal clock is out of batteries. But I do have enough laire to get me a few more drinks and even enough to risk a cab ride back to NAS 1(Naval Air Station).There i'll pass out on a cot too small for me, in the base gymnasium that has been converted into a holding area for the hundreds of men waiting for their number, their ship, their flight, their next destination out of here. A human hive buzzing with indifference and drinking the time by until their card is picked out of the bureaucratic shuffle. Have you ever smelt a room full of a hundred men living out of their duffle bags? It's not just a job..... But right now the skeletons are dancing down the street and the holy men are marching with them and the sound of children laughing is the same in any language. I contemplate seeing a whore and instead decide to spend my lonliness here at the bar.

The world seemed so wide then.