Last night was the biggest party ever in the world. That may be exaggeration, but it didn’t feel like exaggeration. It was a dream come true.
And there’s no question that it wsa the biggest party in the world last night. Because nobody had more reason to party. Nobody.
Chiara and I watched (or rather tried to watch) the game down in Circo Massimo. The ancient Roman circus. It was just us and 300,000 of our closest fanfriends. And it was crazy go nuts ville the whole time. Except of course for the 11 minutes between Zidane’s spotkick goal and Marco Materazzi’s equalizer.
After extra time and it came to the penalty kicks, everybody was on their feet with the fear in their eyes. Italy can’t beat France; hadn’t for 40 years. And Italy chokes on penalty kicks.
But this time they were perfect 5 out of 5. France was good, except for Trezeguet who bounced his shot off the crossbar, and unlike Zizous earlier shot, stayed out.
Then it was partytime here in Italy! Until 5 in the morning when Chiara and I got home.
We paraded from the Circus to the Arch of Constantine and Colosseum with our 300,000 friends. And about as many flags. Then we ate we drank we danced on a bus, we sang, oh how we sang. And basically partied like it was our birthday.
We saw people dance in fountains. We saw cars with fresh coats of red,white and green paint, all wide open, full of gladiators. We saw tractors, city trucks, we saw Carabinieri and Police sing along to the victory chants. We saw lots of guys in their tight Italian jockey shorts dance on cars and in bars.
We saw a city and country re-energized, proud, happy and gloriously gloriously full of hype glory.
Chiara and I parked our car at a metro station so we could pick it up on our way home.
Not after midnight. So we had to walk, and we walked in our own victory parade from the Circus Maximus to the Colosseum, to Piazza Venezia, to Piazza Repubblica, to Termini, then Chiara asked for a ride from a stranger driving home. He took us to Porta Pia. The gate to the old city which we leave about 5 kilometres beyond.
We waited for a bus. None forthcoming. Fortunately that only took 5 minutes before a minivan with the back ripped out and “FORZA AZZURRI” spraypainted on the side and all the doors open full of flagwaving tifosi pulled up.
We hopped in and were home in no time.
Then we watched the last half of the game. Up close on our own TV.
Then we went smugly and happily to sleep.
I can’t get my pictures onto the computer, but when I can: eyewitness pictures of the madness.