Carlos, Roman Taxi/Tour Guide

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Carlos could have been out of central casting for an Italian male. His almost black hair curled over his collar. A cross nestled in his chest hair visible thru the three open top buttons of the crisp white shirt worn out over skinny jeans. 

He was to take me to the airport after I had covered a four-day conference for my paper. 

"What have you seen in Rome?" he asked. He must have practiced sexy tones.

All but one afternoon, I'd been in the conference, attending meetings, doing interviews, writing and filing stories.

I'd panicked when my camera had broken. Miracle of miracle, the hotel concierge had found a photographer who was willing to work in July.

No matter that he didn't speak English. He quickly understood I was looking for candids of people doing conferencey things not staring mannequin-like with artificial grins at the camera. We spoke hand waving.

The one afternoon I was off I met with the university professor who had translated 17,000 cuneiform tablets from Ebla, Syria written in 3000 B.C. It was for another project I was on. His hospitality and home were a thrill but not in any guide book.

"Almost nothing?"

"What time is your plane?"

"In four hours."

"Good, we have time." He turned off the meter and then gave me his tour of Rome all with the story behind the story. 

I arrived at the airport in plenty of time. I reached for my wallet and he shook his head. He gave me his card for the next time I was in Rome.