We are baaack! Roman reunion

We are baaaack! The Roman reunion started off with a bang. After Goose and I had a minor panic attack when the boys arrived an hour late due to the aircraft having one wheel or something (Ryanair - classic), we started up with a classy dinner which involved John stabbing his crawfish with excessive sound effects and Goose destroying a chair via sitting down.

We proceeded to do as we said we would: romp about. Walked around the Coliseum at like 2 a.m. (no lines!) and saw other ruins that just looked like piles of rocks in the dark. Probably better to do at a reasonable hour. John and I proceeded to act out Gladiator death scenes about 6 times in the street - pretty standard stuff. Each attracted a significant crowd of onlookers sharing looks of befuddlement yet general sympathy and concern thanks to countless hours of my childhood spent doing the same, leading to perfectly mimicked tragic deaths. We marched on to a gelateria around 3, and this woman dropped the awkward question, "What country do you think I am from?" on us:

This immediately led to several racially motivated guesses, all involving Africa. Very relieving she was from Nigeria.

Slept and had to leave by 10 due to an awful hostel rule where you are locked out from 10-3, but "Smashmouth Tourism" led us to quite the efficient day, as follows:

Illegal pictures in the Sistine Chapel

Admiring St. Petey's Basilica and making incredibly crude, shortsighted remarks about much of Rome's finest art in the Vatican. I.e. John: "What is this guy stickin his thumb in his ear or something?" Me: "Yea like a personal wet willy? Wait..no the description says it's a martyr stabbing himself in the head. Whoops."

Seeing the original "Tebower"

Walking

Lunching. Nicely done Johnny.

God came down from the heavens to thank us for our religious pilgrimage to the enormous Jesuit church. Good guy.

Landed a Euro in the upper deck at Poseidon's feet. Sheer power.

That's all for now. Off to watch Italy game in Trastavere (sp?) and Tom is about to be really mad at me for being late. But the fans are hungry and I must feed.

- Andrew