Sunday, August 12, 2007
Granpa Milo visited "The Big European Boot". Find out what he thought about it.
By: Grandpa Milo
To be honest, I never wanted to travel to Italy. I don't like pizza, all cathedrals look the same to me, and Italians are just too loud. Golly gosh, if you had ever told me that I would be visiting Vatican along side 100 Japanese tourists with cameras and white hats, I would have told you to put down your dope pipe.
Sadly, my wife was the one who told me that I was going with her - or she won't be coming back.
I had been living with her for the last few decades, so I knew she meant business.
Couple of days later, we were on our merry way to the land of greasy food and hair.
And, my God was it terrible.
The flight to Italy lasted 13 hours. In the end, my back felt like I was the star quarterback in a team that has the worst defence in the NFL. After that, we had to get a cab. That episode lasted another 2 hours. Rome is like some third world metropolis - narrow streets and millions of cars driven by bad drivers. Ours kept saying: "...you like...you like..." Well, me no like you, Francesco, Franco or whatever your name was, you irritating bastard.
Finally, we got there - the hotel was all right, but the service was pure crap. I felt like I was sleeping with distant relatives that didn't want me there. I eventually found out that this attitude is ever present over there - everybody is grumpy and passive aggressive.
Of course, my old lady was delighted - the architecture, the culture, and all the other ... ture. But let me tell you - it's just a bunch of old ruined buildings. I could have seen that in Detroit. Even writing about it makes my blood pressure rise.
The only thing I was looking forward to was the booze. Italy is famous for its wines. Well, the good ones are very expensive and I wasn't in the mood for big spending; the affordable ones taste like and probably were pissed in.
After a long 10 days, the vacation was over, and we were on a plane.
I had to watch ''Shakespeare in Love'' twice. Perfect ending for a perfect vacation in the land that invented organized crime syndicates.
The good: sleeping and forgetting
The bad: every other type of consciousness that made me suffer that god-forsaken country
The ugly: pizza makers that pick their nose while making dough