Last night I had all four of my passports stolen, somewhere in the middle of Milan in a shopping area that had a brick-paved piazza.
It looked like a scene from an Italian opera, where a tenor aria is sung offstage to start the show as you watch the day slowly begin to dawn -- a classic Franco Zeffirelli production. Only it felt more like New York for some reason.
I went to the police to get them to download the footage from the video cameras so we could catch the guy, who was tall enough to be a basketball player.
The thief also took the four t-shirts I got with each passport, which annoyed me as much as losing the passports.
After putting up with the usual bureaucratic rigamarole, I went into one of the charming medieval buildings to see if I recognized anyone coming out of the offices inside. And sure enough there was the guy, carrying a bunch of papers in his hand.
So I went up and attacked him, screaming and yelling that he had my passports -- and where were my t-shirts by the way?!!! He dropped everything, trying to get out of way and sure enough, there they were, all four passports with their distinctive blue covers. AHA!! Gotcha!! But no t-shirts.
Yep. A dream. I forgot the first rule of eating before bedtime -- don't.