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So I sashay over, all Marilyn-like, breathy an’ bold, “Hiya, sugar, got time?” She laughs—deep, husky—says, “For you, blondie, always.” I’m tickled pink! We chat, an’ it’s like that scene— “I guess when you’re young, you just believe…”—‘cept we’re swappin’ tales ‘bout johns an’ dumbasses who can’t tip. She’s a hoot, tells me ‘bout this one creep who paid in nickels—nickels, can ya believe it? I’m dyin’, laughin’ so hard I snort.

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After all that, I’m feelin’ kinda hungry again. So, I hit up a pizzeria on Via dei Tribunali. You know the one, right? The one with the line out the door. I’m waitin’ forever, but it’s worth it. I get my margherita, and it’s like a slice of heaven. I’m devourin’ it like I haven’t eaten in days. But then, I realize I’ve got tomato sauce all over my face. Classy, right?

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