Officially.
I now wonder who I write this weblog for, me or for others to read, because there are things here that are simply too scandalous or personal to share. But they must be recorded, nonetheless. Don't get the wrong idea - nothing happened tonight. But there was a girly freak train taking place onstage at the discoteca that literally made scores of Italian guys either cry or pant. There are some FINE Asian ladies in the program and I don't think any of these ethnically challenged people have really seen a done-up Asian gal before. So me and two other girls, Tammy and Melissa, like to get together and I have to say honestly that "down and dirty" would probably describe it best. Some guys from the law school in Arkansas asked me if Asian girls liked white guys... said that all of us were "really fine"... stuff like that, and it occurred to me that for some guys we really seem quite attractive, for the rarity or whatever. I had thought that guys were generally dispelled or uninterested. Though I don't know where that thought came from.
It really was one of the most bizarre and fun nights of my life. Everybody was having a good time - everybody is so cool. I've already made several vows to party with the same people when we go home. Afterward, we ended up in front of one of those mobile diners, whatever they're called, whose equivalent in California would sell burritos and gyros, but here in Italy they sold various panini, some of which had hamburger patties and hot dogs (salsiccia, for them). I had one, and this Italian hamburger was pretty yummy, served on a French roll. Nobody wanted to walk 30 or 40 minutes back home so we had a random Italian guy take one of our cell phones and call up two taxis. The taxis showed up but we didn't meet them at the corner in time and they took off. Then some drunk strangers offered rides, and then a lot of streetside debate and miscommunication ensued as half-drunk and fully-drunk Americans struggled to decide if it was safe or not to go with them. Safety or convenience? Take a chance and spare the walk, or play it safe and brave the streets? I intervened as much as I could, being the only one able to speak Italian, and dismissed one car already jam-packed with rowdy older men. Ultimately I piled into a car with two German-Italians, calling over my shoulder to a bystander named Fabio to help the others find taxis. The driver of our car was a lawyer but that didn't stop him from drunk driving, and we very nearly got into two accidents as he weaved through the narrow Florentine alleys. He dropped me, Austin, and Crystal off a few blocks away from the Piazza della Signoria. Austin was incredibly drunk: he took to his habit of pissing in the streets, then swore there was no way he could get home, then picked me up and carried me over his shoulder down the alley, then decided that he would just crash at my place. When we came up he changed his mind and then I drew out his path on a map and wrote the instructions on a sheet of a paper for him, but it seemed like even that wasn't going to be clear enough. Eventually he got home. But it didn't end there: he had to make one final phone call to inform me that it would be impossible for him to complete the reading for tomorrow's class.
I bought something Dolce e Gabbana today - let's just say it's black gauze and likely nobody will ever see it. I also took Via Maggio, the Rodeo Drive here, en route to class and peered enviously through the windows of Prada, Gucci, Salvatore Ferragamo, Buccellati, and Trussardi. There was Louis Vuitton and Tiffany & Co., too.
I feel like there is always too much to tell, to much to remember, to much to take in. My cousin is coming to Florence this weekend and that should be some classier, more subdued fun. OK, maybe I need that.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 7:34 PM
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