A Not Quite Near Death Experience

by Beth Emery (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

A leap into the unknown Italy

Waking up to your work phone ringing at one in the morning is never a good sign. I'd been a tour guide for all of two weeks and it was my first time leading a group on a three day whistle-stop trip around southern Italy. We’d sweated around the ruins of Pompeii, drunk way too many cocktails in Sorrento and gazed across the hazy Bay of Naples from the highest point of Capri. Everyone was relaxed, and I appeared to be too. My chilled exterior hid the double-triple-checking of everything I had to do as I tried not to give off the impression it was my first time. I had accidentally lead them on a detour through a lemon grove whilst trying to walk into the middle of town, but I managed to pass that off as sightseeing. On the last night of the tour I walked a few people back to the campsite from a bar where we’d been watching fireworks. I decided to go straight to bed, I didn’t need to go over my Amalfi coast talk for the seventeenth time (when in doubt just say George Clooney went there). Next thing I knew my phone was ringing right beside my head. I tried to answer it but my half-asleep finger wouldn’t swipe across the screen and the unknown caller rang off. As I went to call back message after message from my tour group pinged through. “We’re so scared…” “Something’s wrong…” “Can we come and see you?” Horrific images flashed through my mind. An out of control car, sinkholes, men with axes. Could you get wolves on the Amalfi coast? I heard familiar voices outside the door, so went to see what was going on. Three girls were standing there, and from the looks on their faces my already sinking heart dropped to somewhere around my knees. Two were in tears, the other was almost. “What’s wrong?” I asked, ushering them inside where they all sat down on my bed. We’re not really supposed to let passengers into our rooms, but the cabins on the campsite had wafer thin walls. I didn’t want to wake everyone up “We’ve got no signal to call our mums.” said the not-quite-crying one. “Okay,” I relaxed a little, “Why do you need to call your mums?” “To say goodbye!” gasped one of the others. This was a bit more dramatic than I’d been expecting, and the confusion must have been obvious on my face as the not-quite-crying one took over. “We think Mount Vesuvius is erupting.” As if on cue, a rumble echoed around the Bay of Naples. It was low and explosive and threatening. I’d given them some fun and interesting anecdotes about the volcano a couple of days before, but they obviously hadn’t been as memorable as I’d hoped. “It’s alright...” I said. Another echoing rumble helpfully contradicted me. “But you said it’s due for an eruption!” “It is, but I’m sure it’s alright,” I repeated softly to my unconvinced audience, “Mount Vesuvius is monitored in Naples, they’ll know from the seismic activity about six months out before it goes.” “We saw red sparks, right over where it is.” To be fair to them, if someone was talking to me about monitoring seismic activity when I’d seen red light over one of the world’s most notorious volcanoes I wouldn't listen to them either. For a moment I felt sick. Maybe we were all about to be burnt alive and found buried under ash after a surprise eruption. But that didn’t seem likely. I poked my head out of the cabin door and watched the dark sky. It wasn’t long before an enormous firework shot into the air and red sparks showered down across the bay. I showed my three panicked passengers to the window and we watched the sky glow red and gold and green in turn until the fireworks stopped and the rumbling was no more. Finally convinced they weren’t about to die they headed back off to bed. After tomorrow I would never see them again, and I would never be quite so nervous about what tour guide life could throw at me.