Italy

My first (and only) trip to Italy was an unforgettable experience, but there is one memory that stands out quite vividly. When our bus first arrived in Florence, the first thing we did was get dinner. We went into a tiny restaurant and took our seats at a very long table, with lots of very hairy Italian waiters. The table I was at was mostly girls, and being teenagers, we were full of giggles. We ordered our drinks and as we were talking, a VERY hairy arm reached over my shoulder and poured a glass of wine. The girl across from me whispered, "He's very hairy," and suddenly a dark and rugged face with crazy eyes leaned over the table and in a very thick italian accent said, "Hairy like monkey, no?" Then he proceeded to make money noises. We didn't know whether to laugh, or bury our heads in humiliation.

I spent the rest of the meal avoiding eye contact with the waiters, and picking at the mysterious breaded meat that I had been served. It's never a good thing when you can't figure out if what you are eating is chicken or pork. It was time to leave the restaurant and check in at our hotel, and as I walked down a very narrow hallway to the front of the restaurant, I heard a small sound in the doorway to my left. I stopped to look and in the dark, was our hairy waiter friend with the crazy eyes. He had a deranged smile on his face and he started barking, growling, and snapping at me. I prayed that the rest of my experience in Italy wouldn't be like that, and I got the hell out of that restaurant.