Venice-Ready to Rumble Pt. 1

To tell of what went down while my ma and I were in Venice is truly a treat. Sure, walking through the unbelievably unique city was great, seeing the numerous canals was cool, and even visiting a nearby, less touristy island was peaceful. But none of that compares to what occurred at a bar we went to.

As most, if not all of you know, walking around a lot can be tiring. Especially when you are in a new city and stop to look at everything. When one gets tired, they get thirsty and/or cranky. This usually results in the need for a drink. As my ma and I were on the third leg of our tour (Lake Como and Florence was blessed with the Dynamic Duo before Venice) we had reached several 'let's take a break points' including this one on the first night in Venice.

As we headed out of St. Marco's square, we found a comfortable bar with nice chairs and couches that made it appear more like Sherlock Holmes' study. As I was in no mood to sit on a stool and have my back ache, I was happy to be there. My mom had been talking about ordering a 'Bellini' which is supposedly a tasty traditional Venetian drink. Although we were not at the famous Harry Bar where they are apparently delicious, she decided to get one anyway. I, on the other hand, was not feeling adventurous and decided to play it safe: I ordered a Proseco.

When the drinks arrived, my ma's Bellini looked like a orange dream machine or mango madness (or whatever the hell they are called) smoothie from Jamba juice. I had a funny feeling she was not going to be satisfied. As she took her first sip, her words of complaint were already out of her mouth before she even swallowed.

'Can't taste the alcohol. I'm going to get something else. I don't want this'

Oh boy.

I knew I was going to be asked to convey this message to the bartender who was also the server.My mom was on a mission. She watched him like a bald eagle scans the terrain for prey waiting for the right time to gesture him over to re-order. When he did come, ma jumped right in and spoke English.She informed him that it didn't taste right, and would like something else. He said 'Sure, we can change that for you ma'am'. Problem solved. Dude spoke English, ma is getting new drink, and the ass grove in my seat is starting to form.

After about 30 minutes of sipping our Proseco's (ma got one, too) and relaxing, we decided it was time to leave. As I went up to the bar to pay, there was a second bartender there, a woman. When he gave me the bill, I looked at it and saw there was 3 drinks listed. Mom was a few steps behind me because we were talking in Italian, and she was looking at the paintings. I asked why there was a 3rd drink and he said 'she ordered it' and pointed at ma.

Wrong move my man. Wrong move