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More than One
by Joan Leotta

The road to the vineyard at the top of Mt Etna was comprised of turns of every type, wide easy curves, hairpin curves, sharp curves,-- and we took them all at what seemed to be the car's maximum speed. My friend laughed as she saw me grow more pale each time the driver's hands twisted the wheel right or left, She whispered to me, "one good turn deserves another must be the road builder's motto here."

I smiled weakly , trying to ignore her and the constant chatter from the guide. My stomach rebelled at the sheer number and intensity. At last the car stopped. We disembarked at the top. The others hopped ahead , following the guide's pointed finger to a terrace where a lovely lunch awaited. Everyone, except for me, that is. I gazed down at the wonderful view and threw up.