Yep, Double Hangover. It has landed. And it hurts. We sleep in until past noon. One debaucherous, sleepless night in Bologna mixed up and doubled down on last night in Rome. Ramped it by the Colosseum and went Rome-ing around the city. Guttermoths with gins to go until the wee wee hours. Now we are even worse off then we were yesterday.

But, at least we don’t have to leave the hostel. So we sleep in. Because we can’t move. And thinking is too hard.

I finally get up to take a leak and MacKay stirs in bed. “Rough shape today, man.” “Ohhhhh yeah. Miserable.”

We summon the strength to shower up and leave the room. It is Halloween after all and since our past Halloween’s have typically been legendary we feel obligated to at least try to make something happen.

Mamma Angela

There’s a restaurant across the street with an outdoor patio and we are incapable of making a plan better than that. It’s called Mamma Angela. A sign shows a daily special with long pasta, sausage, and peas. That’ll work. Looking at a menu and making decisions sounds too hard. We get a couple Peroni as well, hoping brain suds might work their magic yet again.

The pasta is decent and the beers are actually going down ok despite our current conditions. Mackay is shaky as shit though, “Hard to rally today.” “Well ya, we’ve basically been drinking for a month straight.”

There’s a server bussing a table beside us. “Mi scuzi, can we get two more?” He smiles, “Of course boys, I’m not going to leave you thirsty.” He’s picking up glasses and there are a couple more than is manageable. “In my next life I want to be an octopus.” He grabs what he can and starts walking off. “Problem is you’ll end up in a salad.” Ha, this guy’s a character.

“Servers in Italy are the best.” “Ya, they’re hilarious. Well.. except in Naples.” “Oh yeah, they sucked there. <Letterkenney accent> Fucking figure it out, Naples.” “Ya, figure it oot.”

Beside us is a table of boy crazed teenage girls. They’ve been gossiping about kissing boys the whole time. Their voices are high-pitched and excited. They know everything about boys and kissing. If you need to learn about boys and kissing, find these girls. They know all about boys and kissing and everything else and have their lives totally figured out and everything is amazing.

The pure energy / naivety of these girls reminds me of my own high school trip to Greece back when cellphones didn’t exist. And I learned everything about girls and kissing and ouzo and how to combine the three.

Out of reverie and we’re taking our time with the last two beers. “Come on suds, do your thing.” “Not sure anything can get the wheels moving today.” “Alright, let’s just see if we can find some costumes.” We pay up with Octopus Wannabe and head Southwest towards what looks like a central shopping area.

The Costume Hunt

We snake around a few streets by the Triton fountain from last night, but nothing much is really presenting itself. We dip into a tourist trap trinket spot to see if there’s anything in there.

There are some Pope plates for 15 Euros. “Do you still say grace if the Pope has pre-blessed the plate?”

…and this badass gladiator helmet.

MacKay is digging it, “Ok. This might work.” I shake my noggin, not entertained, “No way. It’s super heavy and uncomfortable. Would be impossible to pack and bring home on the plane too.” “Just wear it through security.” “Haha. Oh I set the detector off? Should I go back through? Yeah, no, can’t do it.” “It does look badass though.” “It does.”

A few more streets down and we find a Puma store. “Get a couple tracksuits? We could be euro gangsters? Maybe sell some drugs.” “Fuck it, let’s see.”

We slip into the sleek Puma shop and find a couple of pimping tracksuits. “Look at this! Nice yellow one and a black one here.” “Those are actually pretty sweet. How much are they?” “Ahhhh 130 euros each.” “Ya, no. I’ll probably never wear that again.” “Not even to sell drugs in Truro?” “Nope. Not dropping that much dough on a one-off tracksuit.” “Ya, me neither.” So we bounce (might have to get one when I get home though).

After a little more investigation we stumble upon a Disney store. “Oh my gaaaawd, dude! We could be Disney princesses!” “Holy fuck, that would be great.” “I mean… they’ve gotta have Disney princess outfits in here…” “…that will barely fit us.” “Exactly!”

We rush into the Disney store. All the Disney paraphernalia you can think of. Lots and lots of parents and kids in here. There are only two people hungover out of their minds in the Disney store right now.

In the back corner we find a section of kids costumes. Pirates and princesses. Perfect! There’s Snow White, Cinderella, Ariel, Jasmine, “Oh yeah, this is great!” “There’s no way we can fit into those, man.” “Well that’s the whole point, isn’t it?” “I mean there’s absolutely no way. Look how small that dress is. I can’t even get that around my leg, let alone this burly beast belly here.”

MacKay is right. They’re tiny. They’re for five year olds. I was hoping for another stretchy-fit like his bee costume from Bolivia, but I don’t think these are gonna work. I look at a few more, I’m still not ready to give up on being a Disney princess for Halloween.

But he’s right. These won’t even not-fit and look hilarious, they just won’t fit at all. “Fuck it, you’re right. We can’t all be Disney princesses.” “It’s ok little guy. Let’s brainstorm over brain suds.”

And for many reasons, we are probably the saddest people to exit the Disney store on this day. But, there’s a patio nearby where inspiration may just be a few sips away.