I am now at the hotel where it all started. I feel like a fool. I'd never had never imagined it to turn out like this. The romance is dead, every last shred of it.
All around here are losers, pathetic men who work in this 'disneyland' as they call it. When it's not tourist season, they smoke (and that's not just cigaretts) and drink their lives away. And this is the environment i am finding myself in. I am the tourist who stayed behind, the one who got to see Venice as it truly is.
Advice to tourists worldwide, never get carried away by a holiday romance. Reminds me of what Carrie said to Big in SATC regarding the red wall in his bedroom, 'it is a good idea in theory, but it just doesn't quite work..' It's a bit like that, although i guess in this case, the idea has never been all that good even in theory.
As a usual 'control-freak' it seems to me now that everytime i throw caution to the wind, i get burnt. Or perhaps i just don't calculate the risks very well beforehand.
It is almost midnight. His shift will be over when the night porter arrives. And i will go home with the concierge who i fell for, back to Mestre where most workers live.