Roma (last Rome post): Fake Italians & the Exiled

After our wine on the Spanish steps, our group decided to meet up with the Pompeii group after we grabbed a quick pizza dinner. We got ready and prepared to take on Roman nightlife. There is a section of Americanized bars in Rome in Campo de Fiori??. Following our Roman panini/Nutella friend's advice from early in the day, we decided to go to a bar called the Drunken Ship. As soon as we arrived it was packed. However, he knew exactly what we were looking for because they literally had an American flag on the wall, sweet home Alabama playing, a beer pong table in the corner, and there was an unfortunate girl getting a body shot. No, I was not feeling homesick or particularly proud of my home country. However, I do still love Lynard Skynard. We met lots of Americans and an even amount of creepy Italians. It was so much fun to hear some good ole American tunes. Val was telling everyone she was actually a famous pop star in America and everyone had to be low-key about it. Then she got into a dance battle with a local Italian, and I was like a toddlers and tiaras mom cheering/dancing with her on the sidelines (this was more embarrassing for me.) One set of guys we spoke to asked Val if I was a Russian ballerina to which I replied," yesssss." in my most terrible accent.

The flag in the Drunken Ship... authentic Roma?

Val during her dance battle!

By far the most interesting thing that night was the two "Americans" we met that puzzle me to this day. They looked American, sounded American, and told us they were studying in Rome that seemed normal enough, but I guess I have some banging intuition or just textbook trust issues not to believe them. One claimed he was from Pennsylvania, and when we brought up "JoPa" he was drawing blanks... come on I even know that one! Meanwhile the other said that he lived in Connecticut and his house was in the Hamptons. I had two problems with this statement: 1) Rich people don't tell you things like that and brag so they can impress you 2) The Hamptons is in New York... like I haven't watched enough Real Housewives of New York and Revenge to figure that one out. Meanwhile my friends were quizzing them on sports mascots that they couldn’t name for the life of them. By this time I had written them off completely and deemed them phony, scrubs but one guy (who is featured in this blog making out with the side of my face... awkward) felt the need to prove to me he was real. Big mistake buddy. And how you ask did he try and accomplish that? OH! By telling me he had Thanksgiving dinner with THE Blind Side family. Wow, yup little did this idiot know that Chesterfield County Public Schools actually approved a course in "Sports in Literature" which I took two years of in high school. We can discuss how ridiculous this is at a later time, but in this moment it was like I had been preparing all my life for this moment. I casually said to him that I had actually read the book, seen the movie, spoke to the author via conference call, and that my class had received a personal letter from the mother and that I would love to hear if he knew the names of everyone in the family. He named Michael Ohar. Welp buddy, I know for a fact that their daughter is super hot and if you met her you'd NEVER forget her name (I haven't, it's Collins.) By this time we were ready to leave the club, but the fake Americans were trying to get us to go to another one with them and bought roses for us, which I mayyy have been a little dramatic about when I ripped it up and threw it out of our cab window away from them. God Bless America... moving on. As soon as we got into the cab my friend Abby started to look not so hot and as the swung around corners and roundabouts she started looking green. Most likely if you are reading this you have been young and wild and free... but I was a bit upset at her for not alerting me of the situation. It got to the point where we pulled over for her to take a moment and the cab driver kicked us out of the cab. There is a positive side to this- we didn't have to pay for the cab! The negative side to this story was that she was vomiting on the capitol building of Rome. Her aim was truly impeccable and a little symbolic if we want to get philosophical. After she collected herself we hailed another cab and made it home. Once we got home we set her up, and assumed that she would be sleeping in and on the floor for that matter, but life never ceases to amaze me....

The two fake Americans with Val and I (he apparently liked my face? Sorry mom..) and Amanda and Abby up front

As soon as we settled Abby in the apartment I realized there was another issue brewing... "Michelle got mugged." This is what I was told at two in the morning. So naturally I am concerned and waiting to hear a story about a knife or god forbid a gun when I noticed that Michelle did not seem to be traumatized, but the girl who was with her was upset, and in fact everyone was mad at Michelle for being "mugged!" Silly girls. SO naturally I ask, did he have a knife?! To which I was told no, a man jsut came running down the street, Michelle was tweeting and he grabbed her iphone and ran. That ladies is NOT being mugged, she was robbed, jacked, and stupid, but not a New York style mugging. So here is the REAL story: two girls decided to walk home from the bar that night. I don't know why they did this, we all knew we were advised not to, but the decision had been made. Now, one of the girls was previously featured in my blog for allegedly using the floor as her bathroom in the Interlaken nightclub (Michelle.) Since that lovely moment some girls were less forgiving than others, but I personally thought it was hilarious. Apparently, on the walk home she had to relieve herself yet again. For the record I do applaud her for going outdoors, and frankly I am tired of the double standard with men being able to use the bathroom wherever they want without a comment. The other girl blamed this peeing action to her being targeted for the "mugging" later on their walk home. I don't understand how a thief can know you have an iphone while you are peeing on the streets of Rome, but apparently they have x-ray vision. Watch out kids. Then the other girl proceeded to get very emotional because she watched the whole thing happen and couldn't do anything. Meanwhile, Michelle didn't run after the man and basically was grateful all she lost was a phone with contacts she had on computer and in shock that the situation occurred. This led everyone to attack Michelle for being jacked- which is the appropriate word for the situation.

A picture says a thousand words.... our three expressions about whatever we are looking at is hilarious.

Now you may be wondering: why I am writing about this situation? Because I am still pondering weeks later how I got dragged into this mess. Some of the girls didn't even go out that night because they wanted to wake up early and go to a Catholic mass in Vatican City. I would have gone, but I have a strange reaction to strong amounts of incense where it make me feel woozy, nauseas, and overall want to pass out. I figured out of respect to the service I shouldn't put myself in a situation if I would have to stubble outside or potentially vomit from the smell. I thought I was being very logical, smart, and respectful. The church group's alarm went off (for 15 minutes), so I had to turn it off, wake them up, and send them on their holy way. I assumed that everyone else would wake up and walk around together so I went back to sleep. The next thing I know I wake up to Michelle yelling ”Did everyone leave me?!" That's right, I had been exiled along with the "mugged" pee-ing hot mess. I held a girl's hair while she threw up on the capitol of Rome, I didn't go to mass still drunk (Abby,) and yet I had been exiled with Michelle. Rude. Plain rude. We had a lovely afternoon of eating paninis at shop with Chinese symbols on the wall, shopping (Michelle is Asian and Jewish and therefore the best street haggler I know,) and strolled the Spanish steps yet again, all while she vented about her ordeal. We met up with the group before catching the train home and I was still bitter for being exiled... but in hindsight it is historically authentic to say you were exiled in the Holy land and they can never take that from me!

Woke up to this beauty haha... the face of the exiled

How every European feels about loud Americans.