30. Have You, at Long Last, No Sense of Decency?

Parting is such sweet sorrow.
——Romeo and Juliet, II.ii

Michalis had limited time to spend with us. It was Thursday, and he was busy packing up his office and preparing to leave town on Saturday — for a year of compulsory military service. (As I mentioned earlier, every Greek male is required to serve in the army.) We were anxious to get back, too — Sarah and I wanted to clear out of Athens Christian Center and get to our hotel before Q. returned from Thessaloniki.

We almost made it. The four of us returned to the church, where Sarah and I packed up, brought our bags out to the courtyard, and said goodbye to Holly. I suggested that Holly could stay on the extra bed in our hotel room, but she said she thought the worst was over and she'd be OK with Q. for the last few days of the trip. We gave her the hotel's phone number. Just then came a knock at the courtyard gate.

It was John, the road manager for Qedem and husband of Tracy, the drummer — who was getting out of a taxi along with the other girls from her band. Q., they said, was right behind them. I darted into the street and engaged the services of their taxi driver; then I notified Sarah and we began hauling out our bags.

On my last trip out of the courtyard, Q. arrived. I extended my hand, and Q., ever the optimist, thought I was trying to slap him some skin, as if going away for a few days was all it took to earn back my respect. He hadn't seen the set of keys to the church I was holding; I was only trying to give them back. "See ya later," I said to Q., and stepped through the gate. That was the last time I've spoken with him.

Athens cabbies don't like it when you load up the trunk of the taxi with luggage. In fact, some of them charge you extra for the privilege. Our driver seemed unable to arrange our bags in a way that allowed him to close the trunk — and he preferred leaving it open to letting me help him. We ended up driving around town with all our luggage — including my instruments — on display behind us, which made me rather nervous.

The language barrier in the cab was significant. Our hotel, the Acropolis House, was at 6 Kodrou Street, on the other side of the shopping district from Mitropoleos Square — but I couldn't make the driver understand this. I took a stab at spoken Greek — "Οδος Κοδρου." He gave no sign of recognition. I wrote 6 ΚΟΔΡΟΥ on a piece of paper for him. It didn't help. That particular street, I admit, isn't exactly the beaten track, but it's near the city center and has more than one hotel. I couldn't be the first fare who'd ever asked this guy for a ride there. It didn't improve matters when I told him "Acropolis Hotel," which wasn't quite the right name.

As the crow flies, it's no more than a mile from Athens Christian Center to Acropolis House, but since crows don't drive cabs — and because our driver wasn't quite sure where we wanted to go — we actually traveled more like four or five. So there I was, wandering around Athens at the mercy of someone I couldn't communicate with, in constant fear that something might happen to my instruments. Sound familiar? Fortunately, nothing was broken, nothing was stolen, and nobody got hurt.

Eventually the driver stopped and picked up a friend who spoke a smidge of English, and the two of them managed to get us within a few blocks of the hotel, at which point I was able to give the friend some directions. After we got there, the driver and I finally did succeed in communicating. "Δεκα," he said, several times, until I remembered that this was the Greek word for "ten," or about twice what the trip was worth, in euros. Still, I was glad to pay it.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in an Internet café near Mitropoleos, investigating our options for a visit to one of the Greek islands. We settled on Hydra, which both sounded interesting and was close enough for a day trip on a boat. Next we returned to Leonidou Street for a preappointed clandestine meeting with Holly at the phone booth across from the church, at which we confirmed that she and Logan would join us Friday morning for our island excursion.

Walking back from this meeting through Thissio Square, we encountered the rest of the group, who were out for an evening stroll. While Q. and E. glared at us from across the square, we said hi to Desiree and talked for a few minutes with Ben Dally and Brian, who gave us the lowdown on the Thessaloniki trip. It didn't sound as though we'd missed much — according to them, the band had been harassed by drunks at outreach concerts, and a relaxing beach trip planned by Q. became a bit of a bummer when the beach turned out to be three hours away.

The Acropolis House is a small family-run, pensione-style inn. It's old, funky, and dingy, but clean and thoroughly charming — and next to Athens Christian Center, it felt like the Ritz-Carlton. Friday morning we rose early for our first Greek breakfast outside of Starbucks: bread, soft-boiled eggs, coffee, fruit juice, and what looked like prunes but turned out to be some of the saltiest pickled olives I've ever had. We hustled back to the Thissio Metro station for our rendezvous with Holly and Logan, and were surprised to encounter Brian along with them.

Holly, it turned out, had come to say goodbye. If she'd expected a live-and-let-live attitude from Q. and E. upon their return, she'd underestimated them once again. Earlier that morning (2 a.m., to be precise), the dynamic duo had burst into Holly's room and delivered Today's Pearl of Wisdom. They told Holly to start packing — they'd decided her presence was too much of a distraction for the rest of the group. So they were sending her and Logan back to Seattle early — but they didn't say exactly how early. It was now about 7:30, and while Holly was understandably perturbed at this newest turn of events, she was also thrilled to go home, although she didn't yet know when she'd be leaving. Of course, this meant she couldn't accompany us on our island trip.

We later learned that Q. and E. kept Holly in limbo for twenty-four hours before telling her when her new flight was — and at that point, she was leaving only a day ahead of everyone else. She also got stuck with paying a fee to the airline. And if we hadn't gotten E. to cough up our flight itinerary and gone to the Acropolis House, I'm quite certain we'd have received the same treatment as Holly.

And then, of course, I'd be minus a couple of days' worth of adventures to write about. But don't worry, dear reader. The end is in sight.