(I got kicked out of the Vatican),
Why? That's got to be an interesting story.
August 1997 I was given the assignment of overseeing the removal of asbestos containing ceiling material in one of the buildings at the U.S. Naval Air Station Capodemonte in Naples, Italy. The project lasted seven months.
I was always eager to learn as much as I could about the people and cultures wherever around the world my employer sent me. So, early on during the weekend, I decided to visit the Eternal City of Rome.
That, of course, meant visiting Vatican City to see the wonders there. I strolled around St. Peter's Square, marveled at the newly restore ceiling of the Sistine Chappel, fed the pigeons flocking around the renaissance colonnade.
And St. Peter's basilica was next. I climbed the staircase and the 3 massive doors to the world's largest church. Just as I started inside, one of the Swiss Guards in their colorful uniforms blocked my way with his poke. Yeah, he had a pike!
"No!" He said sternly.
"Why?" I asked.
"American?" He asked.
"Si! American!" I answered.
"No shorts!" came his reply.
Now, at that time, I weighed over 240 pounds while standing 5'8". A rather rosy poly figure of a man.
Just then, a short (5' 4 1/2") Scandinavian man in his 20s walked into St. Peter's wearing tie dye spandex pants and a tank top made of black net material.
"Look, sir" I said to the Swiss guard, "If I wore pants like his, could I be allowed inside?"
"Si! No problem." the guard said.
I thought to myself that the last thing anyone wanted to see was my pudgy butt in spandex waddling around inside the basilica.
So, I walked about ten blocks away until I found a souvenir shop. I bought a pair of garish red sweatpants and returned to the Vatican.
I pulled the sweatpants on over my shorts and was then permitted inside.
When you go through the door of St. Peter's you encounter beautiful hand carved wooden screens. I decided to go to the right of the barrier and was innediately in front of Michelangel's Pieta.
I gasped in awe. Turning to see deeper into the massive, awesome building, I thought to myself I probably couldn't reach the distance from the front door to the high alter with a 7 iron, if distance was calculated by golf shot.
My day at the Vatican was, to use a too often overused word, awesome.