Here comes the rain again

Feeling slightly defeated in our costume hunt, we stop at a nearby patio for more brain suds. I’m still spinning up costume ideas.

“Well that funny server from earlier did say there was going to be face painting.” “Ya, there’s that. Suppose we could go as Kiss.” “Boom. That’s easy. You wanna be the kitty?” I know he wants to be the kitty. “Of course, man. Kitty for sure.” “Ok, I’ll be Star Child. You know we could also still get Disney princess outfits AND get our faces painted like Kiss AND get gladiator outfits.” “Pfffft… I mean. We could…”

Our server comes by and we put in for some afternoon pizza to share. Like most of the other Italian servers we’ve had, he’s a handsome bundle of smiles, jokes, and charisma. “Today arrived some nice prosecco. I’ll show you.” “Ahh… ok, sure.”

He comes back with the pizza and a couple glasses of prosecco, just because. “Here in Italy we eat pizza with our hands, but here is knife and fork anyways.” “Can we get chopsticks? I usually eat mine with chopsticks is all.” “Haha ok chopsticks. This sounds… not possible hahaha.”

Prosecco Boy comes back and drops another freebie on the table, “Here are some olives.” He points to the toothpicks in them, “You see. With little chopsticks hahaha.” Haha nice. He’s getting a high five for that.

We square up with a couple more chopstick jokes and decide to head back to Yellow. We’ve exhausted what little energy the double hangover has allowed already.

On the way back we pass by the Disney store again. “One more look?” “Fuck it, why not.” Same results as before. These kid’s princess outfits won’t even fit around my leg, there’s just no way.

We bail from princess corner but are blocked leaving the store. Everyone is piled up at the front cramming the entrance. “What’s this all about?”

There’s a torrential downpour outside. It’s slapping against the entryway and rivers are already forming in the street. A wet and windy mess. It’s a serious storm out there and no one wants to go out into it. Including us.

We wait for 20 minutes or so but there is no let up to the rain. “Damn. This is crazy.” “Ya, I was just looking at Uber too. So it’s rush hour and nothing is moving. Plus this crazy storm. Aaaaand it’ll be 30 bucks or more to get a drive right now, soooo…” “Just jump out and make a break for it?”

I look around for other options. “Well… we could get this Winnie the Pooh umbrella.” I pull out a pretty purple umbrella with Eeyore and Winnie on it. “Whoa, you going to open that in the store?” “Ohh don’t be superstitious.” “Haha I’m just fuckin.”

We check out the size of the Poohbrella and it looks like we’ll also have to get a Mickey Mouse one if we ever hope to leave the Disney Store and make it home remotely dry.

“Two Disney umbrellas? We sure about this?” “Well, it’s way less than the cost of an Uber and we’ll always have these cute umbrellas to remember how hungover and stupid we were in Rome.” “Ok, good point. Suppose you can give one to Queenie too.” “Exactly.”

And we’re off.

It is insano rain and wind outside now. We rush through the streets on a heading back to Yellow Square. Unglamorously skipping and jumping huge puddles with our delightfully cute Disney umbrellas.

It’s the most unrehearsed, uncoordinated and terrible dance routine the world has ever seen. Occasionally the wind thrashes the umbrella and inverts it leaving us scrambling to fix the damn things with no protection from the elements.

I’m sure this all looks hilarious to the rush hour traffic as we race by. Mostly because we are failing so hard. We are not staying dry. As hard as the double hangover hit, the day itself is just owning us now. And we return to Yellow absolutely drenched, feet soaked, and completely drained of all energy.

Monsanto Man

So with that brief and taxing excursion we are done. Just mid day, but it’s boxer time already. Out of our sopping clothes and into the beds again. The deluge continues outside the window and eventually I can hear the Halloween party over at Yellow Bar start to kick in. The low drone of edm bass tracks getting carried by the wet wind.

It’s a long shot but, “Any interest in hitting that shaker?” “Nah man. I’m really not feeling well.” He’s been cold and sweating at the same time. Our non-stop assault on the immune systems seems to have culminated in the expected ways.

I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I keep resting. Should probably get us some waters. I go downstairs and out into the wetness.

Down the street the hostel party is actually going off at Yellow Bar despite the weather. It’s spilling out into the soaked streets. It’s noisy and packed with 18 year olds that know everything about boys and kissing. Looks like costumes aren’t really a thing either.

Hmmm maybe MacKay’s right. I don’t really feel like pushing through there to muscle up for a drink that I really don’t need at this point anyways. Very un-adventure detective of us not to be blowing it up on Halloween. But I don’t see a single person dressed up anywhere. Just another night out.

While making these observations a guy with a purple suit and hoop earrings comes wiggle-waltzing straight up to me. I’m guessing drugs. Behind the suit-vest combo, his white dress shirt is unbuttoned so as to show off his shaved chest.

He starts talking to me in Italian but I’m not confused by the language, more confused about everything else. He has a bottle of wine that he’s showing me, gesticulating with oh so many rings on his fingers.

Seeing the look on my face he switches to English. “Monsanto 2012, man. Veeeeeery, very good.” Whaaaat? He’s trying to sell me wine on the street? “Nah, I’m good man.” I have no idea what might be in that bottle. As much as I like getting kidnapped… think I’ll pass.

He keeps pushing, “Italian wine is best. It’s very rich, you will like it. Just try it.” Oh, he might just want a drinking buddy? Still, “No, no, man. It’s ok. Thanks though.”

He just looks at me baffled for a long spell, like, why would anyone in their right mind pass up free, delicious wine? It makes no sense to him.

Finally, he shrugs then spins in a quick pirouette and with a swift pump of the back leg he’s off strutting through the rain, drinking straight from the bottle and singing.

Pizza a Taglio

There’s a place next door called Pizza a Taglio. I step in and look around for waters. The display cases are lined with fabulous looking pizzas and breads. Yeah I’ll grab some stuff for tonight too. Sleepy Head MacKay probably won’t want to leave the room, especially in this weather. This will work nicely.

I nab a piece with artichoke, mozza balls, basil, ham and sopressa. Oh maaaaan…

I get some hot chilli oil and go to town on this pizza. Even corner store bullshit is sooooo good in Italy.

A fight breaks out between a customer and the chef behind the counter. Don’t know what it’s about. Italians yelling at each other is super entertaining though. Great language for arguing. Unfortunately, I’ll have to wait for this to de-escalate before paying up and leaving.

I bring the pizza and water back to the room. MacKay stirs in bed when I come through the door. “You check out the party?” “Nope. I’m just gonna chill. It’s still pouring and that place is super packed.”

As if on queue, the rain picks up even more outside the window and the wind makes a low howl-whisper as it passes the opening. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

MacKay sits up in bed and I pass him the to go box of pizza. He takes a bite, “Fuck dude. This is amazing!” “Yeah, right? Little place right next to us. Oh! So I met this interesting dude in a purple suit…” And we just take the evening to chill, drink a ton of water, and rest up.

This is a better idea anyways. We can rest off these double hangovers and spend our last day here seeing some sights. Hopefully the storm let’s up. Not sure our Disney umbrellas will last through another one.

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