This is the second and final chapter in my fictional story about Nate and his travel adventures in Europe. I've appreciated the feedback on Part 1 and hope you enjoy the conclusion.
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Damian nvtahoeus@yahoo.com
FINDING MYSELF AGAIN IN EUROPE
Part 2
I was excited about going back to Austria. It had long been my favorite country to visit. I love the mountain scenery, I love the colorful architecture, I love the food, I love the music, and I love the chocolate! In Salzburg you can find "Mozart Balls" displayed nearly everywhere – quite a delight for chocoholics like me.
The cities are wonderful, but you have to get out into the rural areas to really appreciate Austria – and I did. I loved driving from town to town and just soaking up the ambiance. I would sit at outdoor cafes and watch the people go by as I drank my coffee – or something stronger. It gave me a respite from the highways and byways and gave me time to ruminate on my time so far traveling in Europe alone.
In the first weeks after leaving Carl in Copenhagen, I had not heard from him by e-mail. I was really missing him but was waiting to see if he would write first. I thought I would wait another week before doing so myself.
I had spent only a few days with Carl, but we had forged a close friendship – or so I thought. I wanted to see him again – and he had said something similar – but I wasn't sure how he really felt about it.
Frankly, I felt hurt that he had not reached out to me yet. Had another passenger of his taken my place in his bed and in his heart? At times I wondered if our meeting had only been a dream, but of course I knew better. Nothing had felt more "real" to me in the last six months than holding Carl in the bed that he had so willingly shared with me for the first few nights of my European journey. Not even young Barry – cute as he was – could compare.
From Austria I drove over the majestic Dolomites and descended gradually into the heart of northern Italy. How two countries next to each other could be so different was striking to me. But "Viva la difference," they say, and I would enjoy it all. Except for the loneliness.
Venice, Florence, Rome – they all have their charms, but my favorite city in Italy is Verona. I arrived there in the late afternoon and after checking into my lodging walked immediately to the Piazza dei Signori – the heart and soul of that ancient city. The weather was perfect, the people were beautiful, and the late afternoon sun made the medieval buildings positively glow. I savored a Campari and soda and then enjoyed an outdoor dinner in their midst.
Nearby is a balcony where romantics would like to believe that Romeo called out to Juliet in the night. Many even leave handwritten notes there. I was ready for a Romeo of my own to appear, despite my lingering grief over the loss of my Graham. He and I had fallen in love all over again the time we first visited Verona. Being there one again was a bittersweet experience that brought tears to my eyes.
From Verona I drove to Lake Como, where Graham and I had once stayed at a hostel on its west side that doubled as a cooking school. We had enjoyed a wonderful meal there, sitting with a friendly straight couple from Sydney and a 77-year-old English woman who was backpacking her way through Europe! She didn't particularly like hiking alone, but she said with a wry smile that all her friends back home had "bad knees."
The hostel was in the town of Menaggio, and once again I enjoyed a wonderful meal that night on its balcony with other guests. I slept in a dorm-style room with a few other men. I didn't feel that I especially connected with anyone that night, but that was about to change – in a very appealing way.
Nearby is a beautiful garden called Villa Carlotta, where I went the next morning to see the azaleas and other flowering plants, with scenic overviews of Lake Como. While strolling through the grounds I noticed a handsome man checking me out through the blossoms from a few feet away. I recognized him from the hostel, but we had not met the previous evening. It seemed now that maybe he wanted to do something about that.
"Ciao – you are maybe American?" he said in his Italian-accented English as he walked up to me.
"Yes. Is it that obvious?" I teased.
"I wasn't sure, but I've met many American men, and you seem like many of them. I am Antonio – welcome to my country. You are alone?"
"Well, yes, Antonio. Thanks for the welcome. I'm Nate, from Virginia."
We shook hands warmly and locked eyes. Like many Italian men, Antonio had dark, wavy hair, flawless skin, and brown eyes to die for. A short dark beard and moustache was just icing on the cake on that gorgeous face. I felt my insidious loneliness of late melting away – or at least shunted aside for the moment.
"Hello, Nate from Virginia. I think I saw you at the hostel. No?"
"Yes, I'm staying there. You must have slept in a different room, but I think I saw you at another table at breakfast. Yes, I'm traveling alone – and you?"
"Yes. I live in Milan but come up here to the lake quite often to – like you Americans say – recharge my batteries."
Antonio had a killer smile, and I was enchanted. He was certainly one of the handsomest men I had ever met. He had a silk scarf around his neck, expensive-looking shirt and trousers, and real leather shoes. Gold jewelry adorned his fingers and wrists, and he wore a simple gold stud in one earlobe. In my well-worn jeans and sneakers I felt like a schlump next to him, but he didn't seem to mind.
"Would you like to join me for some coffee maybe? Two men like ourselves shouldn't have to spend our day at this beautiful spot all alone."
I couldn't have agreed more. We went back to Menaggio, less than three miles away, and had a delightful time exchanging information about ourselves over a cup or two of a rich Italian blend.
"What are your plans for today, Nathan, if I may ask?" No one outside my family had called me by my full given name in years, but it sounded wonderful coming from his Italian lips.
"Nothing in particular. Would it be asking too much of you to show me around this area a bit, since you're so familiar with it?"
"It would be my pleasure. Shall we start with a boat ride over to Bellagio?"
Bellagio is a charming town perched at the end of a peninsula that juts into Lake Como from the south, splitting the lower part of the lake into two sections. It has commanding views of the lake and its environs. A charming town and a charming man to see it with – what a perfect morning! We capped it off with a nice al fresco lunch by the water's edge.
After our return to Menaggio, we went back to the hostel for a little rest. I had slept fitfully in a dorm-style room the night before, so I was ready for a shower and a nap. I thanked Antonio for the morning and suggested that we meet again for a drink later in the afternoon and sit together at dinner there at the hostel. With a cooking school as part of it, it would have been foolish to dine elsewhere.
So we went our separate ways for a couple of hours. When I woke up, I changed into my best attire for our happy hour drink and dinner with my more stylishly dressed new friend.
"I hope I am not too forward, Nathan," he said somewhat shyly when we met again, "but I took the liberty of upgrading your accommodation here for tonight."
"How so?" I asked, puzzled.
"Well, I know you had to share your room with several other guests last night. That can't be too comfortable. I always book a private room whenever I come here, and you would be most welcome to share it with me tonight. I've never done that here before, but you and I – we seem most compatible, and I would enjoy your company tonight before I have to return to Milan."
I wasn't sure I quite believed his claim that he had never invited anyone else to share his hostel room, but – whether or not I was to be the first – I was more than delighted.
"That's very nice of you, Antonio. I accept gladly."
I made a toast to our new friendship, and he smiled broadly as our glasses touched. Suddenly all thoughts of Carl and Barry flew out of my mind. But not Graham, who I doubted would ever again leave my thoughts.
We continued to share our life stories with each other. Antonio, who was three years my senior, had been married to a woman for several years, but she had left him two years ago when she found a revealing text exchange on his cell phone with another man. They had not had children.
The relationship with the man in question never went anywhere, but it forced Antonio to come to terms with his attraction to other men. That isn't easy in family-oriented Italy, he told me, but it's easier to deal with in Milan, where Antonio was a fashion designer and a patron of the local arts scene. Many men had come into his life in the past two years, professionally and socially, but he wasn't ready to settle down with anyone just yet.
I told him all about my life with Graham and my desolation at his premature death. I said that I was on an extended visit to Europe to revisit some of the places where Graham and I had spent time. I even told him about Carl.
"Is this Carl someone you will see again?"
"I don't know. I would like to see him again, but he's an overseas flight attendant and lives in Copenhagen. I'll be returning to Virginia, of course, so it seems unlikely that Carl and I have any kind of future, except perhaps as e-mail friends."
I didn't mention that I was still waiting for my first e-mail exchange with Carl.
"Perhaps we could continue our new friendship in the same way," Antonio said, gently touching my hand. "I am very drawn to you, and I hope you feel the same about me."
"You can be sure of that, and I would be honored to stay in touch with you. I wish we had more time together – I'm really enjoying your company."
We continued a mellow, increasingly intimate conversation over our drinks, and then dinner on the same balcony overlooking Lake Como, which by then was showing its early dusk color and beauty. I didn't want the starry evening to end – except that I suspected that more would be awaiting me soon in my night's "upgraded" accommodation.
I moved my belongings to Antonio's room after our leisurely dinner. We were no more than seconds there before he gently backed me up against the wall and started running his fingers over my chest, face, and hair.
"You are a most attractive man, Nathan. Do you find me likewise?"
"Definitely, Antonio. Definitely."
Even though I wasn't surprised by this development, it was moving along even faster than I had anticipated. My lips were on his in an instant. We kissed tenderly at first, and then with increasing passion as we unbuttoned each other's shirts.
Unlike me, Antonio had a chest full of dark, silky hair that I was running my fingers through eagerly. A bit of it had been visible to me all day at the top of his expensive-looking shirt, and I was thrilled now to see – and touch – it all. His nipples were already prominent with excitement, and he groaned slightly as I touched them.
"I see your body is not hairy like mine, but I like it very much," he said, as he caressed my chest. "Let's take these shirts off. Have you been with an Italian man before?"
"You're my first," I assured him, not bothering to ask if he'd been with American men. I knew that it was more than just likely. He'd said he interacted with them often in his line of work.
I was eager to see even more of him, so I loosened his handcrafted leather belt and lowered the zipper on his pants. He was wearing silk underwear, which like the rest of his clothing was obviously not from Walmart. He was the most exciting man I had ever had the pleasure of undressing, and I was ready to see all that nature had given him.
As I lowered his boxers, I was not surprised when I saw his tumescent uncut member come into view – I knew that most Italian men were not circumcised. I am, as he learned when he finished undressing me, but he didn't seem put off by it because it was in his mouth before you could say fellatio.
Soon we were on his bed – the only one in the room, I noted – naked, hard, and doing all what naked, hard men of a certain persuasion and mutual attraction tend to do together. Although Antonio had said that he'd never invited another man to join him in his private hostel cabin, I noted that he had come prepared with enough lube and condoms to last for days. And we made a dent in his supply before the night was over.
My unexpectedly blissful day and night with Antonio was all but over by the next morning, when we woke up entwined with each other. I needed a good pee and a hot shower, and so did he. So we did both together and then reluctantly got dressed. He would soon be heading back home to Milan, 50 miles to the south.
He invited – almost implored – me to go with him. I almost accepted and then thought better of it. It had been a wonderful and thrilling 24 hours with him, but my time in Europe was running out. In another few days it would be time to fly back to Virginia and resume my mundane workaday life, and I had other destinations to cover before then.
So after breakfast back on the balcony, and – no surprise – one last spontaneous romp in the sack with his dwindling supply of condoms, we hugged, kissed on both cheeks, said "Ciao," and promised to stay in touch. I doubted that would happen, but one should never say never.
The sight, the touch, the sound, the scent, and the taste of Antonio would all linger deliciously in my memory long after I returned to the U.S. All that was missing was the emotional connection I had long felt with Graham – and more recently with Carl. I felt a bit like I was just one of his "conquests," but I couldn't say that I minded at all. If that's what it's like to be "conquered," then bring it on!
I had started my European jaunt in Scandinavia and then had moved steadily south from there to Italy – via Germany and Austria. Now it was time to start heading back north. I had mixed feelings about it. It meant that I could now spend a few days in Switzerland, but it also meant that I would soon be going back home – a home I no longer shared with anyone.
I drove across the border to Lugano and got a little lost before I found the way north from there by way of a very long tunnel through the Alps. Finally emerging from the tunnel, I found my way up to the town of Meiringen, where I spent the night.
I wanted to see more of the area west of there – the picturesque Bernese Oberland – than I felt I had time to see. I reluctantly pushed on by it the next day to the capital city of Bern. It was beautiful, but all the stores on the main drag looked very high-end, way out of my limited budget. I saw some guys lazily floating, rafting, and canoeing down the Aare river in their speedos and wished I could strip down and join them.
My next destination was eastern France, but I stayed one more night in Switzerland, and I'm glad I did. Strictly by serendipity, I wound up in the small town of Avenches, which has a well-preserved 1st century Roman arena – not as big as the ones in Rome and Verona, but still impressive for a small town like Avenches.
Not having a clue as to where to stay, I stopped in at the local TI. A very attractive young man who worked there directed me across the street to a private home that had just opened its doors to travelers. I was to be only their fourth guest ever.
The home consisted of two joined walk-ups. The family stayed in one and rented out the other. They were only connected by a balcony on the third floor, which was where a lavish breakfast would be served the next morning by the lady of the house.
The only way I could get to the balcony, however, was to climb out to it through my bedroom window – what a hoot! I'd heard of Europe through the back door, but this was Europe through the back window.
After I got settled in and took a quick shower, I went downstairs and found myself immediately in the center of old town. I sauntered over to a small café that had outdoor seating and ordered a pre-dinner beer to celebrate my success in getting around Switzerland so well by myself.
All the tables quickly filled up, and mine was right next to the sidewalk. Pretty soon I looked up and recognized the young man from the TI. He was carrying a small backpack and looked like he'd just gotten off work and was heading home.
He recognized me and stopped to ask if I was satisfied with my lodgings. I assured him that he had steered me to a perfect place and thanked him. He didn't seem to be in a hurry, and even seemed to be scouting out the café for an empty table, of which there were now none.
"Why don't you join me for a bit," I offered. "I'll buy you a beer."
I was pleased that he accepted, after little hesitation.
As he sat down, I offered my hand. "Hi, Ben, I'm Nate."
"How did you know my name?" he asked in a very pleasant Swiss French accent.
"You're still wearing your nametag from the TI," I said with a smile.
"Oh, gosh – I forgot to take it off. Thanks."
He slipped off the tag and put it in his backpack. All of a sudden, there was an awkward pause. We were two total strangers after all. He had beautiful hazel-colored eyes with long lashes and a mop of light-brown wavy hair. A shy smile topped it all off perfectly. I was going to try to get him to sit with me for as long as I could – not only because he was gorgeous but because I was lonely. I hadn't talked to anyone at any length since I'd left Antonio at Lake Como.
"How long have you worked at the TI, Ben?"
"I just started this summer. I'm a student at a small college in Bern most of the year."
"Do you live in Avenches?"
"No, I live in Murten. It's about five miles up the road."
"With your parents?"
"Oui – oh, I mean yes – sorry. I slip in and out of French and English all day long where I work – and often in German and Italian. Living in Switzerland, it helps to be fluent in all those."
"No problem. I know a little French, but it would be much easier if we talked in English."
"Sure," he said with a smile. Could this guy be any cuter?
"So, what's it like to work in a TI? I bet you get some funny questions, don't you?"
"I sure do. My favorite one is Can you get to Italy from here?' I want to tell them No, the Alps are in the way,' but I restrain myself," he laughed.
"Yesterday I had an elderly lady ask me how to get to Luverne. Do you mean Lucerne, Ma'am?' No, I mean Luverne. My husband and I were there in 1968, and we just loved it.'
"No amount of persuasion could convince her that there's no Luverne in Switzerland. I even showed Lucerne to her on a map, but she didn't want to believe me."
"Well, when did they change the name?' she demanded to know. It's been Lucerne for over a thousand years, ma'am.' She stormed off in a huff and said she'd ask in the next town. `Yeah, I'm sure they'll know,' I said under my breath. Everyone within earshot was guffawing – is that the word?"
"That's it," I assured him. "Funny story!"
We quickly downed our first beers and ordered a second. Ben asked me a lot of increasingly personal questions, and it soon became apparent to him from my answers that I was gay. He probably had me pegged from the moment we first met at the TI. My gaydar had him figured out, too.
"I enjoy talking to you, Ben. Could I persuade you to have dinner with me? We wouldn't even have to move from this table."
Smiling again, he picked up his cell phone to tell his parents that he would be a little late getting home and not to wait dinner on him.
Why not tell them you'll be out all night, I thought. If I had my way, he'd be waking up in my bed in the morning. But that was too much to hope for.
Usually two men will sit across from each other at a small square table, but Ben had taken a seat on my left instead, making it easy to "accidentally" touch knees once in a while. The more beer he had, the more his knee was up against mine. Soon we gave up the pretense of it being accidental.
As we finished our meals, Ben was still obviously in no hurry to be on his way.
"I sort of have a confession to make to you, Nate. Well, two actually."
"And those would be?"
"You're staying in my aunt's place tonight. I steered you there because I knew she needed the business. Don't tell anyone at the TI, or I could get in trouble for that."
"No problem, Ben. Your aunt is a very gracious hostess so far. You actually gave me a list of four places. Hers just happened to be at the top."
"Yes, I know. She'll have quite a breakfast spread for you in the morning."
"She alluded to that this afternoon. She also told me I'd have to crawl through my bedroom window to get to it."
"Yes, I know the layout of her house very well. You're on one side of the building, and she and my uncle are on the other. Your room is, uh, very private."
He blushed when he said that. Was he fishing for an invitation?
"And your other confession would be?"
"Well, I have to tell you that running into you wasn't exactly a chance occurrence."
He blushed even more.
"What do you mean? You had no idea that I was here."
"Well, Nate, there are very few places like this in Avenches. I figured that you might pick this place because of its location. So I `just happened' to walk by on my way to my car in case I was right. I was hoping I'd see you."
"That's very flattering, Ben. You do know I'm at least a dozen years older than you, don't you? Does that matter?"
"Not at all. I find older men very appealing."
This time his right hand was on my thigh, and my cock was crowding my pants big time. It was a bit hard to think of myself as "older" at only 34, but I guess I clearly was to him. Was this really going somewhere?
"I'm kind of new to this, Nate, but I was kind of hoping, well, that you might be willing to, uh, kind of help me...learn. Could we go back to your place?"
Frankly, I was stunned. I thought that if anything were to happen that I would have to persuade him, and here he was practically throwing himself at me.
"Aren't you afraid your aunt will see you?"
"Not really. Unlike my parents, she's been very supportive to me in my coming out process. She's pretty, uh, hip – is that your English word for it? Besides, her entrance and yours are separate – she'll probably not see me go in with you, and even if she does she won't mind."
"Well, okay, Ben, but maybe it would be best if you left before she serves breakfast," I said with a grin.
"No problem. I need to get home tonight anyway. My parents will freak if I stay out all night. They still treat me like a teenager, although I'm 20 now."
"Well, then we'd better get a move on," I said, signaling for the check.
When Ben's aunt tapped on my window the next morning to announce breakfast, I was still in bed naked. It was a good thing that there was a blind on the window. I scurried around to make myself presentable, opened the blind and window, and was confronted with the most amazing breakfast spread of my whole trip. You name it, and it was on the table – even fresh flowers.
Over breakfast, I smiled to myself as I thought about her nephew's "visit" the previous evening. Ben had stripped himself naked and was hard almost before I could even get my shirt off. With a cock ring and completely shaved pubes enhancing his youthful erection, he just stood there magnificently and let me look him over as I slowly got out of my own clothes. Obviously impatient to get the show on the road, he clenched his fists nervously and bounced from one foot to the other.
"Wow!" was the only thing he said when I was at last nude. Those were exactly my sentiments about him. I took a mental photo of this young Adonis and filed it away in my mind, where it remains to this day.
I don't know why he thought I could teach him anything. This definitely was not the little devil's first rodeo. He was all over me in seconds, like a sex-starved maniac, eagerly exploring every inch of my body with his eyes, hands, and mouth. I returned the favor eagerly. It was a good thing that I had some condoms and lube in my bag, because he didn't and we most assuredly needed them.
When it was over, I was nearly breathless, not to mention amazed that this little tryst had occurred at all. We took a shower together, and then he got dressed to leave, but not before giving me a big hug and kiss.
"Thank you, Nate – merci beaucoup!" The pleasure had been half mine, but I just said, with all sincerity, "You're very welcome, Ben. I'm glad we met."
"How long are you staying in town?" he asked.
I wanted to say, "For as long as you want me to," but I told him I needed to be on my way to France and then home. Then just like that he was out of my room and apparently out of my life. But not out of my memory, for sure.
I practically sleepwalked (or sleep drove, as the case may be) through eastern France. I was tired and lonely once again. I still hadn't heard from Carl, so I broke down and sent him an e-mail to see if I could see him again in Copenhagen before I flew home. I was pleased – and relieved – with the tone of his response.
"I'm so glad you wrote, Nate. I tried to write to you a couple of times, but my messages bounced back. I must have misread your address or something.
"As to getting together before you leave, I'm very sorry to say that I'll be working at that time, but I sure want to see you again. I fly in and out of Dulles from time to time, and I'll do my best to get a layover there as soon as I can. I think about you all the time."
That response rejuvenated me, although it wasn't certain just when we would be able to get together. But I was confident now that it would happen eventually. For good luck, I rubbed – and kissed – the Transatlantic Airlines pin that he had given to me the last time I saw him. I had worn it every day since.
Since we couldn't meet up again in Copenhagen, I decided to change my departure airport from there to Frankfurt – much less driving. I crossed over from France to Germany and made one last stop in the magnificent and historical city of Baden Baden, which I had heard so much about.
I treated myself to a trip-ending session at Friedrichsbad Baths there. It's not a gay bathhouse per se, but one that the public has been using for over a century in elegant surroundings. You get yourself completely nude and then go through 17 different stations with various facilities, including an 8-minute wet massage with a guy who slaps you on your butt when he's done. The day I was there, it was men only, so I enjoyed seeing quite a number of naked German men. They seemed less shy than Americans would be in a similar facility – if we even had one.
From there it was non-stop to the Frankfurt airport. I had been gone for nearly a month and a half, and I was ready to be "repatriated." I'd seen many wonderful sights – some I'd enjoyed before with Graham and some for the first time. And, of course, I had enormously enjoyed the company of four special men I would never forget – Carl, Barry, Antonio, and Ben. I was ready to face the world again in my home country.
When I got back home to Virginia, I felt that an enormous weight had been lifted from me. Although I would always grieve the loss of my beloved Graham, it was time for me to move on with my life. I was only 34, after all, and I expected to have decades ahead of me.
About a month later, on a Monday night in late August, just after I got home from work, my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number and figured it was just another robocall. Fortunately, I did answer – and was stunned.
"Nate? Hi, it's me – Carl. From Copenhagen. Are you busy?"
"Carl! Great to hear your voice again. Where the heck are you?"
"I'm at Dulles. I thought it would be just a quick stop here, but there's bad weather ahead and they've cancelled my next flight. Could I possibly come and spend the night with you? Sorry for the short notice."
"Are you kidding – I've been waiting and hoping to see you again. I didn't think it would happen this soon. I'll hop in the car and meet you at the last door of baggage claim in 20 minutes."
"I'll be there, Nate – I can't wait to see you again!"
"Likewise."
I was so excited to see Carl again that I made it to Dulles in record time. Just hearing his voice on the phone had made me hard. As I pulled up to the curb, there was the handsomest man waiting there in his flight uniform – just like I remembered from my first glimpse of him on my flight to Copenhagen back in early June.
I got out and gave him a big hug and got one in return. As he was still in uniform and on airport grounds, he didn't want to be kissed there, but he promised to make up for it when we got back to my place after a quick dinner out.
"Nice place," Carl said, when we got in the door to my apartment. "Thanks, I'll give you the 50-cent tour after I get that kiss you promised."
He delivered – big time!
During the tour, he commented on the shower in my bathroom, which was a lot like the one we had shared in Copenhagen.
"I could use a shower after working all day," he said with a grin. "It'd be nice to have some company though."
"You got it. I've always wanted to undress a handsome flight attendant," I said with a wink. "May I?"
"Be my guest," he said, as not only his uniform but my own clothes went flying in all directions until we were both as naked as we had been all those memorable days in his Danish apartment.
He could only stay with me for 12 hours, but we spent at least 10 of them in bed, catching up on all that we had longed to say and do to each other since our last rendezvous – plus maybe working in a few hours of sleep. Awake or asleep, Carl was back in my arms once again, and I was ecstatic. He even told me before he left that he loved me and couldn't wait to come back.
Carl and I did get together in Virginia many times in the following year – each time sweeter than the one before. He hadn't previously told me, but he was the offspring of an American mother and a Danish father and had been born in the U.S. He held dual citizenships in Denmark and the U.S. After much discussion, he decided to give up his Copenhagen apartment and move his home base to mine in Virginia, where he could still work for the same airline.
At first, that meant that he wasn't home with me a whole lot, but at least when he had a few days off he could spend them in Virginia with me rather than in Copenhagen alone.
Early this year he took a new job with the airline that didn't require constant travel, so we are finally a couple with a home to call our own – a new house in Reston, not far from Dulles.
Three months ago we got married in the presence of both of our families. He's the new love of my life, and the world once again looks hopeful – and oh so beautiful.
"Good-bye, Graham. I know you would have approved. Love always, Nate."
THE END
Any comments on this story would be appreciated – thanks in advance. To see my other stories, just insert my e-mail address in Nifty's story search field and they'll come up.
Damian (a.k.a. Dave) nvtahoeus@yahoo.com