21. No Room at the Inn

The general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more noise with it.
——Othello, III.i

Armed at last with our plane itinerary, Sarah and I burst forth upon Athens with a purpose: to break free of Q. and establish ourselves independently for the remainder of our stay. I don't know if you've ever sought lodgings in an Olympic host city on the Friday before the Games closed, but I don't recommend it. The responses from hotel clerks ranged from incredulous looks to snickers. One of them actually had a room, but for only one night. Discouraged, we retreated for lunch to a delightful sidewalk seafood restaurant on the back side of the Ancient Agora, then went in search of Olympic event tickets, finally aware that Q. wouldn't be giving us any. (He had organized a Saturday morning trip to some event—women's handball, maybe—but since those who went would have to pay for their tickets and spend an entire morning with Q., we opted out.)

Again, if you want to see an Olympic event, don't wait until the closing weekend. Tickets certainly were there to be had, but the sports we thought we might want to see—basketball and gymnastics—were in the medal rounds, and seats weren't exactly affordable. After all, the gold for those medals had to come from somewhere. In the end, we decided that we weren't such big sports nuts, and we'd rather spend the money on a boat trip to a Greek island or something. More later about that.

Next we made our way to Omonoia Square, where I used a public phone to call the airline and see about changing our plane tickets. Again we struck out: the change fee was $200 a pop. (This confirmed what Sarah had heard from Qedem, who had tried to change their tickets earlier when they got to Greece and found themselves gigless.) So back to Athens Christian Center we went, where B. filled us in on the latest offer from Q.: On Monday, the group would travel to Thessaloniki for outreach events there. Holly and Logan would stay behind at the church, and Sarah and I could do the same. We accepted, because (a) we had no other place to stay and would rather drop $400 on a few more days in Athens than on changing our plane tickets; (b) we didn't believe Holly and her baby should be left alone, even if Q. thought it was a good idea.

Back to Vathis Square went the band that evening, but changes were already afoot. Holly, citing vocal fatigue, stayed behind, and so did Sarah, who was probably not anxious for another encounter with the pimp. Desiree, from U4ic, stepped in for Holly and sang some of our songs without missing a beat, which surprised me. She must have rehearsed with someone, but it didn't happen while I was around. Our keyboardist, Justin, arrived at Athens Christian Center from Seattle at about 6 p.m., after the band had gone to the gig. Q. had left instructions for him to go immediately to Vathis, but Justin, showing excellent judgment, declined. Most musicians wouldn't want to play a gig immediately after a 17-hour plane ride.

In terms of evangelism, this was the most intense night of the entire trip. Elias led some 30 people in a prayer of conversion, and the Qedem girls spent substantial time trying to help a woman who appeared to have consumed a few too many substances. The night's other excitement was supplied by a guest in a hotel near the square, who pitched a tomato from the balcony while Qedem was playing and struck a passing British tourist in the leg. This was the night I broke the tip off a 3-millimeter-thick mandolin pick, which might indicate where I was channeling some of my frustration. That's a very heavy pick, even by mandolinists' standards. I didn't know it was possible to break one. But once more, nothing was stolen, nothing (apart from my pick) was broken, and nobody got hurt.

Today's Pearl of Wisdom: The best transportation deal in Athens, hands down, is the 7-day Metro pass. For 10 euros you get a week's worth of unlimited rides on buses and Metro trains. The pass more than pays for itself if you ride twice a day, which all of us were doing. But Q., who was supposed to be covering transportation, insisted on buying single tickets (and if he wasn't with us, we sometimes got stuck paying our own way). Then he'd claim the tickets were good for three hours, which was a lie—they're good for only half of that.

Fare enforcement on the Metro was next to nonexistent. We met no fare inspectors any time we rode (except once—more later about that), and I was convinced that Athens was merely being lenient with the poor confused tourists trying to find the venue for rhythmic gymnastics. But does that make it OK to cheat the system? Perhaps flouting the anti-proselytization law was a legitimate act of civil disobedience, but not paying for public transit was quite another thing. Sarah and I bought one 7-day pass and supplemented it with single tickets when riding together, but I know some band members took Q. at his word and rode with expired tickets. On one hand, I'm glad none of us were caught, because I didn't want my bandmates to incur a fine or suffer embarrassment. On the other hand, I felt cheated. I was itching to see the look on Q.'s face when he got the comeuppance he so richly deserved.

I'm still itching.