A Visit With The Pope

Darjeeling made his way down the grassy slope next to the wall of the Vatican. His travels had taken him there by accident as he was on his way back from Istambool. He was in kind of a predicament because while he stood outside the Vatican in St. Peter’s Square, the public square where travelers from all over the world wait to see the Pope come to the window and bless them, he suddenly realized that he needed to find a place where he could relieve himself because of the Mickey’s he had been drinking. He had them neatly tucked into his traveling cooler and was immensely enjoying the walkabout on the square while having a cold one. Some folks looked down on him but most of them didn’t even notice, and for the most part he was invisible as he walked to the southern wall that outlined the Basilica area on the south side of the Vatican grounds. As he walked along outside the Vatican walls he looked around at the beautiful grounds. He heard some people talking at a door just a little way ahead of him. He could see one of them, a tall man with long brown hair dressed in tanned leather robe that looked almost Souixan Native American to Darjeeling. There were some ornamental beads on the neckline and it was held at the waist by a three or four inch wide belt of the same soft, light brown leather. This man was standing outside the arched doorway and speaking to someone who was standing inside on the Vatican grounds. The two were having a theological discussion. That was appropriate enough Darjeeling granted as he walked toward the door. The outside man asked the one inside if he knew such and such a dogmatic principle of Catholicism that dealt with the Magisterium Magnum. “No,” the inside man replied. The outside man asked another equally esoteric question as he pushed the heavy wooden door in and stepped inside. Darjeeling heard the inside man reply, “No, I don’t know that one either.”
He could hear the two continue talking as he put his hand on the wooden door just before it latched, stopping it slowly so as not to make a noise. Waiting a moment, he pushed the door in slightly so he could get a line of sight to see if the two were gone. He saw them disappear into another doorway and, figuring out that it was safe, he went inside the Papal grounds, popping open another Mick’s as he looked at the beautiful gardens and flowers. He walked alongside the stone building wall up to the edge of the doorway. He pushed on the latch. The door opened slightly and the heavy brass latch fell making a loud noise. He stopped. He didn’t hear anyone or see anyone coming so he pushed his way cautiously inside where he found himself looking down a labyrinthine hallway. “Should be a bathroom here,” he thought to himself. He heard talking up ahead. Before he knew it, he was at the last doorway in the narrow hall and turning to go through he bumped into the long haired man and the Pope. The two seemed bemused by his presence as he slid by them saying, “Excuse me gentlemen, I was looking for the bathroom.” Pope John The 40th pointed down the hall to the end of a great room. “Over there on the right,” he said in perfect English. Darjeeling said thanks and really needed to get to the lavatory right away. He hurried down the hall and into the bathroom. When he came out he saw that he was in a great room with marble floors and a small swimming pool. In the pool, the Pope relaxed. He looked up at Darjeeling and smiled. “Sorry to bother you, Sir,” Darjeeling offered sheepishly.
“No problem, uh, Stephen, isn’t it?” Pope John languished in the pool, “But first, I would like to ask you a question.” Darjeeling pondered the how and why that Pope John knew who he was and prepared himself for some theological question.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” The Pope offered pointing to a clear glass carafe and some round bottomed glasses at the edge of the pool. He swam over and poured two glasses about half full of the very dark, red wine.
“Sure,” Darjeeling answered. He took the glass offered to him and turned around as he heard someone enter. It was the long haired man and a young woman. Darjeeling thought he knew her but couldn’t really verify that.
“Ah, Mary, you’re here with us, I will get us a bite to eat and some drink,” Pope John arose from the heated pool and walked past the three of them. “Get us some extra sandwiches,” Mary said as he went by, and he laughed as he went out the door. The three of them sat at small tables around the pool and soon Pope John returned with a tray of drinks.