Touched By An Angel

Who knows why but this blurred memory of getting touched by an angel begins in the Asian side of Istanbul with me sitting between some huge rocks looking over the Sea of Marmara.

There are two bridges spanning the Bosphorus. There is a walkway/bike path that stretches he entire length of the city from the fairy landings in Kadikoy-the section of the city were I was staying-all the way to where high-rise apartments turn into the sprawling village that is the outskirts of this ancient capitol of the world.

It was a cold night and may have been raining but along this boardwalk there I was huddled up against a rock trying to light a tobacco pipe. It wouldn't stay lit and I had to keep sparking the thing just to get a puff or two. At age seventeen it was cool just to pretend there was a reason for me to try smoke a pipe in the wind and rain. I guess I really pulled it off.

I was like "look at me everybody who isn't around because you're all inside sleeping. I'm the star of some terrible movie that's so dark all you can see is a lighter being clicked on and off. But I'm not giving up; the show must go on and on…"

It got a little better when a man called to me and jumped across the rocks towards me carrying a plastic bag full of beer. He was older, maybe 30 or 40 who cares. I took one 40oz bottle offered to me and he refilled the pipe and lit it up. He talked forever about the black-market and how much more fun it was in the southern parts of the country. He told me everything about where he was from and what his life was like. I don't remember any of it. Nothing about family or friends, just business and parties. I drank another bottle and probably forgot how to speak both Turkish and English. Fun times I guess, getting touched by an angel.

We walked for a few minutes to a restaurant but sat at the bar and he bought me another glass of beer. I remember seeing the bartender set the glass down on the bar then the man pulling me out of the toilet in the bathroom.

I would have stared and laughed or called the police or done whatever old Turkish men would have done too, but the guy I showed up with gripped me by the neck and told me to march. It was very late and we were pretty far away from home. He didn't know where I lived and I didn't either for all it was worth. Somehow he got me to say "Left" or "Right" enough times to wander our way to a sober place.

When I figured out I was walking home he disappeared and I went on alone, climbing three flights of stairs and took a vomit and showered and passed out naked in my bed. Or maybe I showered with my clothes on and fell asleep in the kitchen. Getting touched by an angel.

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