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About Naples

So, check this—back in the day, like, old Vegas stories, they say prostitutes used to hang by the gas stations, waitin’ for truckers, flashin’ smiles like they’re auditionin’ for somethin’. Little known fact: some’d carry switchblades in their boots—badass, right? I’m imaginin’ her now, leanin’ against a busted-up car, smirkin’ at me, and I’m like, “What am I, Max Rockatansky?”—all sweaty and neurotic, yellin’ in my head, “I just wanna talk, lady!” She’s prob’ly thinkin’, “This guy’s a schmuck,” and I’m over here, heart racin’, palms sweaty—pathetic!

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So, I decide to grab a coffee at this cute café on Piazza Duomo. I order my usual—cappuccino, extra foam. The barista, Maria, knows me too well. She’s like, “Rough day?” I nod, and she hands me my drink with a smile. That’s the thing about Altamura. The people are so warm. It’s like a big family.

Vincenzo Altamura Obituary (2006) - Agawam, MA