They had passed through the main gate with its metal detector, and he (but not his female companions) had been frisked. They checked up high, where the explosives might be. His pockets with a small knife and a gun like combination of camera and phone had not been checked. Small arms fire is not the concern.
They climbed the rough hewn, unevenly spaced, and only partially repaired stone stairs of the Roman amphitheatre all the way up to the cheap seats. The night was cooler than normal, but the dizzying climb had made them sweat. Above them there was still another tier of seating, and then the hillside the Romans had carved up to make this majestic theater. From the hill a boy of 12 snuck down with a bag full of ice cold water bottles.
“1 jd?”
The bottles cost a fraction of that, so with his full bag and the thirsty crowd below the boy could do quite well. If he could continue to evade the police officer who walked the upper courses of the theater he might earn more than the stage director for the night’s performance of La Boheme. The director could certainly learn a thing or two from the comfortable grace the boy exhibited as he moved through the theater.
The audience cheered, and down below the spotlight found another 12 year old boy, this one in a tux, as he walked out to give a castrato performance of Verdi’s “La donna è mobile”. Woman is fickle, but we must endure to benefit from her physical charms. The boy should be able to avoid that conflict for a few more years.