First Night, First Disco

So after so much sobering religion at the Vatican, we wanted to live it up at an Italian disco. Screw jet lag and exhaustion. We would do it the Italian way, stop off at a bar for a shot of espresso.

Only problem was, we did not know where to go or how far it would be. Luckily, kim had gotten adivce from a friend to go to piazza navana. So, being the cheap Americans we are we walked, and walked and walked. We checked the map, and once again being typical Americans that didn't learn geography, we always thought it was around the corner. Well, it wasn't. We walked more and more. In circles, back and forth and got completely lost. So, we said forget the disco, let's go to this Irish pub we kept seeing signs for that included a map, it was around the corner. (remember what I said about italians and directions) So once again we walked and walked. Twenty minutes later, I was done. All I wanted was to sit down and have a beer. I didn't care where we went, and at that moment the world opened up and I heard loud obnoxious bar noise. We followed it down a scary alley and at the end was another irish pub. What is it with Europe and Irish pubs? Being cute girls, we cut the line, got a table, and sat down to drink our strong Irish beer. This of course lead to drunk conversations figuring out world peace, temperature, and the wonders of AC. (dont you love those conversations, so brilliant, yet never remembered.)

Now that should have been the end of the night. It had already been a long day. Train rides, Vatican, pubs, but when you have strong irish beer in you the night never ends so easily. (another example of this will be in Nice) So once the convos slowed the three of us decided to splurge and take a taxi, that yes ripped us off. Not surprising, we were three drunk Americans that were probably very obnoxious. We get to our piazza and start to walk to our hotel. And who is out front but some Italian guys who eagerly invited us to the disco below our hotel. Yes we walked miles looking for a disco and there was one a few floors under our hotel.

Unfortunately, this is when our night really turned painful. One of the creepy, greasy italian guys became obsessed with my blond hair and kept touching it saying, "California, I love California , I love blonde. " Not liking being touched by strange greasy men, I told him repeatly I was not from California but Pennsylvania and not to touch me. He responded by trying to get me to go to a dark part of the bar. I responded by saying I had a boyfriend, get off. He responded by now hugging me and trying to kiss my arm. This was all a bit much for me. I yelled at him to get off, jumped off my seat and stood near my friend. She tried to help the situation by telling him we were gay, and she was my girlfriend. Of course greasy Italian guy had a comeback, and told us to kiss. I did consider it for a second, but just couldn't. Luckily, katie then came over and distracted him with a conversation on America. Yes, it gets worse. He then claims that 911 never happened. We all three flipped on him then and took this as our time to leave. Which is good, because during the 911 controversial fight, katie had fallen off a bar stool and sprained her ankle. How you do this? I do not know, but it was time to call it a night. We had our first real European adventure. What would be next?