Return of The Messenger Act Four Deux Ex Machina
Messaging me on WhatsApp, Herman sent directions to his hotel in Athens at 19 Apollonos Street just off Eleftherias Square in the city center. His Whats App emoji featured a Gold Helmet with wings. I figured the emoji had something to do with messaging.
An Athenian garbage truck making its rounds close to midnight caused my airport-assigned taxi driver and I to wait nearly half an hour while the crew slung loads of huge bags of trash into the back of the antiquated reeking compactor. Emitting a metal-on-metal scraping noise, the poor old machine shrieked me out of my bleary jet lag. Leaning to one side and spattered with years of service, this was no Deux Ex Machina but I was still very excited to be back in Athens.
20 years ago, landing with the rising sun, looking down at the ramble of streets growing closer, the Acropolis appeared reflecting the morning sun like a pillared marble cloud. I pressed my forehead to the window as a kid on a field trip through the ages. Is it possible to arrive here by plane? A time portal seemed more suited.
Wandering and drinking warm Alpha canned beers, chewing on oily chunks of fresh feta cheese from a plastic bag I was in heaven or Elysian Fields to be more accurate. Enchanted to the point of intoxication by the aroma of the spiced roasting meats filling the Plaka, hearing neighbors chatting as they had done for millennia, and buzzing a little from the beer and ouzo shots, I drifted in and out of the present to the golden Athenian past. After several hours of blissful, cobblestone stumbling. my feta now also part of history, I was overcome by the aggressively delicious aroma of lamb on a spit. Following my nose I found the source, an old taverna gorged with locals. I pulled up a stool and enjoyed one of the most ancient people-watching paths in the world.
Sitting next to me on the taxi's backseat was a familiar reminder of my first Athenian orientation; the battered brown leather messenger bag with square brass buckles I had purchased that first night in the Plaka. This simple satchel has been my indispensable companion ever since. Tonight's arrival, although not as captivating was still intoxicating, in a less aromatic kind of way,
Central but hidden in the grey dusty layers of aging post-modern buildings, the accomplished taxi driver had trouble finding the place, just off Mittrapollus St. The only sign “ Hotel Hermès “ in small gold letters next to a revolving door could not be seen unless you knew where to look. Pushing through the squeaky door I noticed a huge map of Greece and all the islands, hewn from wood, and painted white, set against a chalky pale blue Grecian sea that was the entire wall. Rising the full two stories; the textured map crawled up to the top of the atrium. The audacity of the scale reminded me of similar giant maps in the volcanic lairs of James Bond villains plotting world domination. Locations were marked in Greek. Santorini was designated as Thira, its original name.
“It’s very old, “ the night manager said standing up from behind the glass counter noticing me scrutinizing the islands.
“ Like this hotel & me “. He had a large mustache and held a handkerchief he used to wipe sweat from his dome-like forehead.
“ I guess so, Thira “ I pointed to the small cut out of the island about twenty-five feet up the wall.
“Yes .. old, “ he said again in a like I said kind of way with a Greek accent so robust that made him almost unintelligible. He checked me in and gestured towards the back of the lobby.
“ Elevator, “ he said. A floppy hand directed me toward the back of the lobby
I didn't see the elevator. Not wanting to ask and have to decipher the next sentence from the less than cordial, profusely sweating epically mustached night manager I began walking towards the back of the lobby thinking I would find it
“ There, there, there, “ he said pointing forcefully annoyed at the inability to find the elevator right away.
My hunt was reasonable. The door to the elevator was smaller than a standard door. Made of wood it looked more like a door to a broom closet or bathroom. Also, requiring opening outward like a regular door was new, or at least new to me.
The creaky swing of the interior metal folding gate with black paint flaking off inspired me to consider taking the stairs. Were it not for jet lag and my suitcase I would’ve done just that. I managed to squeeze inside the tiny box and after some jerking and banging noises arrived at the 5th floor. The door did not open automatically. I stood for a moment thinking I was stuck. Images of the Athenian fire department arriving several hours later stirred my panic.
“ Open the door dumbass “ I realized I had said out loud to myself. I shoved my way through the door and found my room.
The key card did not work on the first attempts but after about ten or twelve swipes the tiny green light flashed. Kicking off my shoes I opened the mini bar and was disappointed to find it was empty. I knew I had to go back out to get beer and water so I wedged my feet back into my shoes and this time took the stairs, five flights down to lobby. Sweating and watching TV the night manager was still on duty.
“ Where can I get some beer and water to take away “ I said as politely as I could hiding my annoyance caused by the empty minibar.
“Outdoor, right, down street to square. Everything at kiosk" He said waving me off in a semi friendly manner, blotting the handkerchief around the back of his neck.
Walking up Mitropoulos street I began cursing Herman. Why had I been so gullible, flying to Athens during the middle of a heat wave. It was 105 at 2 AM. Why didn't I just insist he explain how I fit it into whatever this was, at Cafe Olympus ? Sure, a ticket on Olympic airlines appeared in my email almost instantaneously, but that could have easily been managed by any of the digitally adept of which there are many for hire. And how could I be sure he was the same person I’d met 27 years earlier in Paros? But no one else could’ve known about that night and my accidental visit. All of this was decidedly mysterious. Even if it was an elaborate hoax, which I was starting to think it was, why would anyone make such an expensive effort to dupe me, and internationally to boot?
Striding back to the hotel more confidently having fixed my bearings to a degree, I heard a lyre or some kind of stringed instrument playing in the alley near Hotel Hermès. I walked over to throw my change from the beer and water into the basket of the seated player. There was no container for tips so I held the change in my hand. As I was trying to identify the instrument a clear, handsome voice sounding like a nineteen fifties TV announcer grabbed my attention away from the music.
“Theodore “ The player said.
I glanced up from the lyre in confusion and shock,
Not knowing how to respond I uttered a soft, questioning “ yes " ?
“ I am Apollo the shining one. Welcome back to Athens “
Chapter 3
“ Apollo “ I said dumbfounded at audacity of the claim.
“ Yes " ? he replied politely in a tone that sounded like something between a tuba & french horn
“ You are mortal and shocked as well as blessed by my appearance ,yes " ?
“ Yes “ I said
“ I am used to such things” he went on.
" I am out practice in greeting mortals please be at your ease “
Setting down down the plastic bag of beer and water I tried to see if there was some breaking of character but there was none.
His face was somehow lit from within making his head look a like a light house atop rocky broad shoulders.
"Please sit down “ he said in a commanding tone, waving his hand towards a rough hewn leather and wood stool that had not been there before.
I sat down with some effort and managed to close my mouth.
“ I am come to impart the mission to you"
“I see, thank you sir “ I said fully indoctrinated into whatever this or the mission was.
“ Do not call me sir it is a mortal designation and I am a God ” He said.
“ You may address me as Great Apollo or given the century and circumstance you can just speak my name; Apollo"
Not sure how to respond or categorize what I was experiencing, I sat without speaking.
“ It has come to pass after many millennia and odd as it may sound, my kind are in need of something from ones such as you “
My face was as blank as marble. I was unable to speak.
He looked around to see if anyone had noticed him and lowered his voice a few decibels.
“ We need your help Theodore “