So there I am, sitting at a little cafe in front of the Pantheon, enjoying the sunshine and the warm weather, reading a great book, sipping a cappuccino, and letting my legs breath in a pair of cut off jean shorts... when I hear... wait, could it be? Thunder? Whaaat?
So it begins to drizzle. The pages of my book have splashes of rainwater running down the words. The waiters break out the umbrellas, and I do not worry because I believe it to be just a thing in passing. After all, it's still warm and the sun is still shining... when... wait, could it be? IS THAT HAIL? Yes. Hail begins to beat down on the umbrellas that have become more of a force field against the weather than anything else. I move further under the umbrella as my cappuccino gets attacked by small chunks of ice. I like my cappuccino hot damnit!
And yet, miraculously, the sun is still out! The hail then gives way to a brutal dousing of heavy rain. I briefly wonder how I will get home in my flats and shorts and lacking an umbrella.
Gypsies, seizing their chance, spring up like mushrooms in the piazza, carrying an arsonal of umbrellas. The one nearest me offers to sell me one. Five euro? No thanks, buddy, I've got one at home, not that it's doing much good now. Plus, the last one I bought from you gutted itself in the slightest of winds!
What to do, what to do? First step: pay for cappuccino. Second step: make a run for it. The waiter handed me the check. FOUR EURO FOR A CAPPUCCINO? Remind me to never get a cappuccino at a restaurant again, thankssss. I could have bought an umbrella for less than that and got more use for my money. In any case, the waiter offered me a plastic bag for my hair. I accepted graciously, said "Piacere Adam, grazie," and with an audience of the entire restaurant, put the plastic bag over my hair, and ran for home.