It was Monday, July 14th, 2008 and it was to be my biggest wheelchair excursion to date. I was to take the bus to the subway to the train to Andover then wheelchair a couple of miles to my aunt and uncle's house - where I used to live. The route would have sentimental value as I used to commute it every day.

I am on my way and I get to Malden Center station where I would transfer from the subway to the commuter rail. I call the elevator to go down from the platform and it never comes. A couple of guys see me frustrated and try to help. Surprise, surprise, the elevator doesn't come when they push the button either. At least we know the elevator isn't prejudiced against ALS.

One of the guys goes and brings a T employee up to help. He comes back and does a really good job translating my ALS accent as I explain how I have a train to catch in half an hour. She radios in the situation and tells me some guys are on the way. The other guy with me has caught his train by now. The helpful, translator guy offers to wait with me until help comes and the T employee goes back downstairs.

We enjoyed a little chit chat for several minutes. It was a good day for me speech-wise but still, I was impressed that this guy never missed a word and I can always tell when someone is faking it. Suddenly, he declares "hey, the elevator is coming up" (it wasn't). I looked through the window and he reached down and pulled my wallet right out of my hands. The prick didn't even bother to run. He just walked away, around the vestibule, and down the stairs as I softly protested. Yes, the platform was empty.

The cops were there in minutes. They have the guy on video. The employee from earlier says she recognizes the guy and he takes the T all the time. I only had about $35 in there but all my insurance cards, driver’s license, T-pass, and credit cards. Before I could cancel them, he made two $100 charges at Hess. Haven't figured out how he did that yet. People who came up for the next T overheard the cops questioning me and were aghast at such a crime. A detective came over the next day to show the video surveillance photos.

I need to give credit where credit is due. Not the Boston police, but the MBTA police, specifically detective Andrea Purcell is who solved this caper. The fact that the thief, Scott Marra, is an idiot helped. I sent Andrea information from my bank telling her the exact times and address where my credit card was used. In video footage of one location, you could see the prick getting into a delivery vehicle with the company's name all over the side of it. I know, I know. Who could be so stupid? It really makes you wonder who has the bigger disability.

So Andrea visits the boss of the delivery company and he is not cooperative at all. Being a good detective, she had done her homework and knew that bossman was driving on a suspended license. She threatened to share this little tidbit with the police and he caved like a house of cards. Turns out our Scott is a very bad man. He has a rap sheet a mile long and from multiple states.

So on Friday, August 1st, with warrant in hand, a team of cops surround his house and enter. Don't you know, the coward runs upstairs and hides in his room. Right now, he is sitting in a room he'll get to stay in for a very long time. The arraignment was Monday the 4th and he was ordered held, without bail, until the trial which should be September 5th.

I can’t leave out the media feeding frenzy that occurred Saturday the 2nd. I got a message Friday from the detective on the case telling me the guy was arrested. Then I get another call from her Saturday morning asking if I was okay with being interviewed by the media. Sure, I said, why not. I thought I was being set up for an interview for some local paper, maybe even the Herald. Imagine my surprise when the camera trucks for FOX, ABC, and NBC roll up. I hadn't even showered that day! They set me up in front of an array of microphones and I hold my first ever press conference. There's more than one way to raise ALS awareness :)

Finally, I’ll add my response to one reporter’s question of what I would like to see happen to the 39 year old Scott Marra… “I would like nothing more than for him to go to trial and have to explain his actions in court. When I look at his picture in the paper, I don't see a thug or a criminal; I see a guy who could be any one of my friends. I found it ironic that we are exactly the same age.

If I could choose his punishment, I would make him my personal assistant for a few months. Living with ALS is very challenging and I need lots of help throughout the day. As the muscles in my tongue, lips, and throat get weaker, my speech deteriorates significantly. Scott has already proved he can understand my ALS "accent" where I only get blank stares from most of the public so he can be my translator. Scott has also proved that my hands and arms are very weak when he effortlessly took my wallet from my hands. He should not be surprised that it is quite difficult for me to lift a fork to my mouth so he could feed me instead. Scott knows full well that I cannot walk as evidenced by the fact he didn't even bother to run when he took my wallet so he should have to lift me in and out of my chair, in and out of bed, on and off the toilet, and grab stuff too high for me to reach. While we're at it, because of ALS, I can no longer bathe myself, dress myself, turn in bed, write, or use the telephone. Maybe if Scott had to help me live my life for a few months, maybe he would learn that, even with challenges far greater than his worst nightmare, it is possible to live with grace, dignity, and a little humility.”

Of course, that was my PC, see if I can raise awareness answer. The reality is that I’d rather see him locked in a room with my brothers for about 20 minutes and then stay locked in that room for about 5 years while he recovers. Believe me; it would take about that long.

As a footnote, I made the trip to Andover a couple of weeks after my first attempt. There may be more Scott Marras in the world but I’ll be damned if I’ll let them spoil my fun.

Life is good!

Wow! What a trip. I'll start off by saying the weather was fabulous. About 75 to 80 degrees, constant ocean breezes, billowy white clouds, and powder white sand. It was all-inclusive so there was all the food, rum, and beer you could possibly consume (and that was lots!). The staff was as courteous and friendly as you could hope. They would do anything asked with a smile. And the food... Oh, my god! Every single bite was like an orgasm in your mouth. For breakfast, they would prepare any type of egg, sausage, pancake, french toast, fruit, or whatever you want specifically to order. Lunch would be any type of salad, bresaola, fish, etc. followed by dessert. And the dinners... forget-about-it; they were all 6-star quality.

The Belizians make a heck of a good rum and beer and it flowed like water. Did I mention that there were no kids. It definitely was more of a couples place as our foursome (me, my brother, my dad, and my dad's buddy Dan) were the only non-couple there. We met up with two other "seasoned" couples (about 30 years old) a few days into the trip with whom we quickly bonded and became the party group. I am sure we were seen by the few other cutesy couples that were there as the obnoxious, drunk assholes but, damn, did we have fun.

The first day we took a canoe trip up a jungle river. It was pretty cool but the best part is when my father and Dan tipped over and had the whole group laughing their ass off at them. The next day we took a hike through a jungle, jaguar preserve. Unfortunately (or is that fortunately), we didn't see any jaguars. Actually, I was disappointed in the lack of wildlife we could see. I thought that we'd see and hear a lot more birds and other critters but it was surprisingly slim. At the midpoint of the hike was a 40 foot waterfall. We all swam out to it and stood under the pounding water. It was the best massage you could want.

The third day, we went scuba diving. This was the part where there was some concern that my ALS could present some problems. Although I was pretty confident, there was a possibility that breathing the compressed air and holding the regulator in my mouth could be problematic. Alas, all went off without a hitch. The sun and water were wonderful. The first dive was to 100 feet. It is just like floating through the air; you are weightless and just flying through this beautiful painting with all of these other flying fish. Anyway, we had lunch on this tiny island with palm trees and did a second dive of about 50 feet. That night, we partied hard and had a great time.

I took my hangover medicine before bed so I was fine but the next morning everyone else was moving at half speed. As it turned out, it was very windy so we canceled the planned dive trip and went sailing instead. The sailing lessons I took last spring really paid off. I was zipping all over the sea in my Hobie Cat. Another great day.

We had planned to go diving again on our last day but it was windy again and looked like it might even rain. So we booked a trip up to a river that flows through several caves and floated down it on an innertube. It was sooooo cool. We hiked through the jungle again with our tubes and donned some head lamps and jumped off of a cliff into the river (the less adventurous walked in). It was a surreal experience to float on your back through these pitch black caverns. I would have loved to scuba dive through them. Being that it was everyone's last night, we partied all night. We would have closed the bar except that that bar didn't close until we wanted to leave. As it was, we drank the bar dry. Holy shit we had a good time.

Hello all, just a quick/long note to let you know about one of the best days ever… one “to write home about”.

For those who don’t have a while to hear some boring stuff about cows I’ll give you the quick explanation:

Eight of us went to the top of a mountain with a beautiful view to herd 129 cattle between 30 and 50km (20 to 30 miles).  I got separated from my group chasing down some stray cows through the woods but was able to reunite them about 20 minutes later.  We walked for over 10 hours, the last 45 minutes of which were in the dark.  Everyone arrived safely, if but a little sore.

OK, for those who can’t spare the details:

I arrived at work at 5am so that we could drive for an hour to the peak of Mount Tezzio.  I sat in the front seat with owner of the vineyards I worked in and purported to be the 3rd richest man in Italy, Dottore Gritti (the Dr. is in economics).  This is the first time I had actually met the owner of my company and, it turns out, he speaks English well.  We talked about a lot but I’ll only relay that he would be a good Democrat.  He knows, and likes, Hillary as she was his company lawyer for his enterprises in the States.  I had to apologize for all of you that voted for the Shrub… and I wasn’t just kissing his ass.

Mount Tezzio is the highest peak within obvious eyesight and, therefore, has some spectacular views and vistas.  Me and eight others started our hike before dawn and got to watch an amazing sunrise as we walked the slopes.  Now I figured this would be a picture worthy day, so I brought my digital camera with me.  We passed one of those obligatory crosses perched on so many mountain tops and I thought it would make a great first picture with the sun rising in the background.  Well damn me for not checking to see if I had put in my CompactFlash card (digital film) before leaving, so I have NO pictures.

After 15 or 20 minutes we get to some grassy slopes (it had been stone).  Now, I’m talking “Sound of Music” scenery here.  There start to be some creases in the mountain where there were thickets of trees.  This is where we found the cows.  Here is where I’ll make my “City Slickers” reference… we would hoop and holler to get the beast moving and begin herding them in the direction we need them to go.  Well, I have a whole new appreciation for the term “herd mentality”

We walked the cows down the mountain along a… well, cow trail.  I would run back and forth trying to outflank the cows that thought they’d break with the program and meander into a nearby meadow (Melissa, one of your horses would be great to have, I came to learn).  At first, I thought my biggest concern would be stepping in a cow pie.  That quickly became irrelevant as my focus became not slipping and falling in them.  Actually, it wasn’t all that bad, but there was a LOT of “merda”.

We finally got to a real road and it would be quite a site to see an oncoming car stop and sit there as a 130 strong herd of cattle engulfed, and finally passed, their car.  This would be the first of many such occurrences.  I did feel sorry for those who got caught behind us.  When we finally got to the bottom of the mountain, it caught me by surprise that it was only a bit after 9am ; I though it was supposed to be a long day...  It wasn’t long when the cops showed up so that we could drive the herd across a highway.  We took them along a road for a while and then took off up another mountain.  I would later realize that this mountain was one I had seen in the distance from the first (oh, how I wish I had my camera).  It was just before lunch when the road gave way to not even a trail.  We walked them, now through the woods and I learned about walking along a very “fresh” cow trail.  These animals can blaze a way through dense brush like I didn’t believe.  When we finally reached the peak of THIS mountain (the 2nd highest peak), it had already turned back to stone.  But this time, it was quite loose and unstable.  We took the heard around the peak as they just couldn’t/wouldn’t finish the last 100 meters up the steepness.  I did see one 600 lb. bull slip and land on his side, but he popped up and kept going.

Finally, we reach the other side and start our decent.  There seems to be some confusion as to which way we should go.  The path chosen was also very steep but we make it down into some woods again.  Here comes my big hero story… As soon as we hit the woods, the cows spread out and start their own decent (the rock part was hard on them).  Cipriano and I are following one group trying to get the strays back to the path.  Cipri is especially concerned with the baby calf and is getting him forward when I see a couple of bulls making their way through the brush and I take off after them.  The thing is to be quiet as possible until you can get to the front of them… otherwise you just scare them further away from you.  This means I can’t take advantage of the trail they make and have to make my own.  I catch up and pass them within a minute or two and I see them approaching a line of about eight or ten more cows so I relax a little thinking I had gotten back with the heard.  After about another 20 meters, I can see that all of THEM are renegades also.  So off I go trying to get back in front of them.  Throwing caution to the wind, I am now yelling back to my group as I don’t know how far away I am at this point… I hear nothing.  OK, I get in front, turn them around solo and get my charges safely back to the herd.

We get to the bottom of the second mountain and take some gravel roads back to the stables.  As most of the road was fenced with barbed wire to keep adjacent horses in, it was fairly easy to keep the herd moving nicely.  But really, it was like pushing water through pipes… if you have a leak (broken fence), water (cows) spills out.  So we’d either try to plug the leaks first (by standing there -“Vai, Vai (Go, Go)”) or we’d have to run out into the spill (meadow) and push the leaked water back through the hole.  One (of many) humorous moment is when we passed a nice, private estate, who had left their gates open and some 30 to 50 cattle started roaming this immaculately groomed lawn and courtyard.  We did manage to get them out without a single flower trampled but I think some shrubbery was munched (see, they’re Democrats too)...  To top it off, it got dark before we got them home.  Eventually, we got all of them home safely (the full moon didn’t hurt).

This walk blows away “DeSoto Trail” as my longest single day hike.  I’ll never know for sure, but we walked a steady pace for about 10 hours, so I figure 2 to 3 mph = 20 to 30 miles.  I can’t remember the last time I had spastic cramps in my legs, but a couple times up that second mountain, I had to do some emergency stretching.  By the way, did I mention, that after blistering cold weather for two weeks, it was an absolutely beautiful day with temps about 60 to 65 F. and full sun.  This was, indeed, a day to remember (Billy Crystal’s got nothin’ on this).

Ciao a Tutti

TUESDAY, JULY 24, 1990
Unfuckingbelievable! The past five days have made my life worthwhile. If I left Europe today, I would feel satisfied that I have had the most incredible experience of my life. It all started last Thursday, July 19. At 9:10 p.m., myself and 20 others embarked on a journey no one will ever forget.

Took a bus to Camucia and waited until 10:09 when we got a train to Arezzo. Twenty minutes later, we arrived in Arezzo and waited for a train to Munich, leaving at 11:16. Upon entering the train, we all become suddenly aware that "maximum capacity" is not a term used by European trains.

The trains are organized into compartments called couchettes that consisted of six seats that recline into one big bed. Of course, all of these were full, so we all pulled up a piece of floor and tried to get comfortable. After waking up several times, unable to move because of someone standing on my hair, I got the bright idea of climbing up into the luggage rack, which is about 10 inches wide, and sleep above everyone. This was really not bad at all until a conductor came by and said to get down (of course, not in English). There is something basically degrading about getting kicked off a luggage rack so you can sleep on the floor. The floor, if you were lucky enough to get in the hallway, was only about two feet wide. Otherwise, you were in the area between the doors where the trains connected, or outside (or inside) the bathrooms, where people got on and off the train.

Woke up in the morning at the break of dawn, Friday, July 20. From my convenient hallway seat, I got a good view of the Swiss or Austrian Alps and countryside. The landscape there is drastically different from the Italian landscape. It's like the difference between Southern California and Virginia. Everyone managed to get into a couchette by early morning and slept a little better for a while until we were informed that a bridge had collapsed up ahead and that we would have to get off, hike across a field with all of our stuff, take a bus to the next train station, and then get back on the train. All of this happened pretty smoothly but caused us to be an hour late into Munich. Well, of course, this caused us to miss our connecting training to Berlin, which was only 40 minutes later. I found a train going to Nuremberg and then Berlin leaving at 1:34 instead of our planned 10:44. It all worked out for the better because it gave everyone time to change money and reserve some seats home from Munich to Florence. The trip from Berlin to Munich, however, was completely booked and promised to be a fun ride. Finally, on the way to Nuremberg, my only worry was that after leaving Munich ten minutes late, it was possible to miss the train leaving Nuremberg as there was only a sixteen minute layover. However, we made it there in plenty of time and left Nuremberg at 3:32 p.m.

At last, our next stop is Berlin. We were all able to get seats. Finally had a chance to break into my bottle of Absolut. Had a good ride up. Everyone was really getting psyched at this point. Had a chance to talk to an East German. His English wasn't very good so deep conversation was impossible but from what I could pick out East German life before last November 9 sucked shit. One minor accident on the way up. In my sock feet, I stepped back on my camera bag as I was sitting down and my X-acto blade sunk about three eighths of an inch into my heel. Being prepared with Wet Ones and Band Aids, I was quickly fixed up and had only to step lightly for the rest of the night.

Finally arrived in Berlin at just after 11:00 p.m., making the trip only an hour and a half later than the expected time of arrival at 9:23 p.m. Found our way to the site of the show, made camp in a nearby park, and slept in the cold. Ted, Lee, and Beth decided to find a hotel. Woke up again at the break of day. Brushed my teeth and had nothing to rinse with except vodka. Half the group stayed with the bags and the rest went to pick up our tickets in town.

Finally found the American Express office where our tickets were waiting. We were supposed to meet Ted, Lee, and Beth there but they didn't show, so I paid for their tickets (they had already paid me) and left them there for them to pick up. Made it back to camp to hand out tickets.

I am amazed that this group of 21 is able to keep together so well. It's funny, on the train to Berlin, because of my organizational efforts, someone referred to me as Captain Kirk. It didn't take long until that was shortened and combined with a previous name, and now I'm the all-popular Captain Zenga. I can only laugh. Anyway, after distributing tickets, everyone split up into groups and headed for the show.

By 11:00 a.m., myself and about 10 others are outside the gate awaiting entrance. Just after 1:00 p.m., they started letting people in. "They", by the way, are the security guards, each paired up with some huge German Shepherd or similar dog. There was certainly no fucking around. To get in, everyone was completely searched, including bags (which in most cases, mine included) were quite large. Glass and cameras were strictly forbidden. They threw away my bottle of vodka (half full) as well as a spoon and knife. I had my camera hidden, so managed to get it in. Many people had all their film thrown away. Amanda had nine rolls tossed out and her batteries just so she wouldn't have to throw away her camera. They found all my film but I guess since they didn't find the camera they let me keep it. Thank god!

Got great seats (a place on the ground) within 50 yards of center stage. The ground was three inches of loose powdery dirt. None of has had taken showers since Thursday and it was only getting worse. Within a couple of hours, the front half of the audience was absolutely packed. To walk back and pay the equivalent of $3.00 for a 10 oz. drink (even water) was a task requiring much balance and patience as you tiptoed between people's legs and over their bodies. It eventually got to the point where it was impossible to move, as evidenced by the fact that Amanda and Nancy left and never made it back. Thank god everyone was too dehydrated to piss.

At around 5:00, the first opening band, Frumpe, played. It was the first time they played together for 18 years and the last time was opening up for Pink Floyd. They were pretty good. Next, the Hooters played. I'm not a big fan of theirs, but the atmosphere was right so it was good. Next, The Band played. They were excellent, only they didn't play "The Night They Tore Ol' Dixie Down." After that, the Chieftains played. They did tribal music and it was really good.

Then, finally, the waiting was over. Around 10:00 p.m., it happened. I won't even try to write how I felt. I just couldn't do myself justice. All I know is that if I could take my feeling and make a pill out of it, I would be a millionaire. Either that or be in jail, for it would certainly be made illegal for - as everyone certainly knows - anything to make you feel that high must certainly be against the law. The only problem was that there were some sound problems at the very beginning but they were quickly resolved. It ended at midnight with the most incredible display of fireworks directly over my head. Consequently, I was rained on by bomb fragments and ash to compound my dirtiness.

After the show, everyone met back at the designated spot. Still not a single problem traveling as a large group. We all then hiked into East Berlin and helped destroy the wall we had all just heard so much about. On the way, we just happened to run into Ted, Lee, and Beth whom we had not seen since arriving in Berlin. They went and got an expensive hotel that cost them 350 marks (about $240) for one night. They say it was great and worth it but I can't imagine how. They never went to pick up their tickets so they had to buy new ones and then got way in the back of the show. They were definitely the big spenders of the group. After hooking up with us, we all headed off for the wall. It was very hard work, but I finally got a piece about the size of an egg with some original paint. This I will frame with my ticket to the show as a tribute to the Wall.

At one point, I was sitting on top of the wall and it was incredible to think that less than nine months ago I'd have been shot dead on sight. At Potsdamer Platz, where well over 200,000 people had been only hours ago was Dead Man's Land before November 9, 1989. What an incredible change for the better.

We all hiked back to the train station, stopping at McDonald's at 4:00 a.m. for a bite to eat. This was the first meal I'd had since this trip started. Upon entering the train station, I was amazed at all the thousands of people asleep on the floor. The station was huge with many levels and it was absolutely packed to the gills. I found out when the earliest train left for Munich and even though I was tired to death, I still found myself searching everyone out and getting them in a group as they had all started randomly littering the floor themselves. By the time everyone was together on the platform from which the train left, it was half of an hour before our departure. So much for sleep. True hell began at 6:34 a.m., July 22, as we packed in like sardines onto the train. I could only hope that everyone had gotten on.

Jeff, Catherine, Michael and I made it no farther than the door before we could go no further. As such, we spent our time just inside the door, having to get up at every stop. Just when you thought there was absolutely no way to fit another person on, the door would open and someone would be looking desperately in. The conductor outside the train would merely state that "all compartments are the same" and somehow, there would be one or more people in our space.

When finally, ten hours later we arrived in Munich at 4:30 p.m., everyone was happy about our seven hour layover as no one was interested in hopping back on a train. About fifteen of us made our way to the Hofbräuhaus. We all proceeded to prepare for our trip home by immediately ordering a stein of beer (one liter size) and also ordered some food. The food was excellent and the beer was better. Our Italian friend Mazi (Marcelimiano) informed us that it was the proper thing to do to drink nonstop the last two bubbles of the glass. The steins are composed of four rows of circular indentations, or bubbles, so two bubbles was almost one-half a liter to slam. Of course, we all happily obliged. After eight bubbles, I called Dad, had a chance to talk to Mike, and hopefully he'll be able to visit me before I leave Cortona. Went back inside and drank eight more bubbles before it was time to leave.

Five hours at the Hofbräuhaus did me right. I led everyone back to the train station and got on the 11:20 train. This time we had reserved seats. We got on and let the alcohol do its job by passing out until we got to Florence at 9:20 a.m., Monday, July 23. The only pain in the ass was when the conductor would come in, flip on the lights and yell "Tickets!"

Had two hours in Florence. Finally got my Pros and Cons CD that I've always been looking for over here. Paid out the ass for it (a little over $20.00) but it was an expected expense and now I can force myself not to buy anything else. I really ended up spending a lot on this trip. I bought two T-shirts, program, poster, and sticker, among other things like food and a hammer and chisel (for the wall). Probably spent about $400 in all but it was worth twice that much and I can only be happy to have spent the money on something that means so much to me instead of some damn AU parking tickets. Left Florence at 11:05 and into Camucia by 12:25.

Cortona was such a blessed sight after all of that traveling. I practically ran back to the monastery to take a shower. The water literally ran black off my body, especially my hair and legs. It really wasn't that miserable being that dirty because I wasn't ever sweaty and it was an even layer of dirt caking my body. The weather was perfect this weekend. The days were hot but dry. No humidity to make you sweaty. The nights were quite cold but we all had blankets.

Since we've been back, people can't thank me enough for making the experience of a lifetime a reality for them. It makes me happy to know that everyone really appreciates all the effort (and there was lots of it) that I put into this trip. Roger Waters' concert was broadcast live on Italian TV so last night we all sat around and watched the video of the show that I had Maro make for me on his VCR. It was great but will never compare to the real thing. All my classes today had been canceled luckily, so it's been very restful.