Milwaukee, all the training you done give me came into play the other night.
There I was, full of Italian vino and pasta outside of Termini station. All this Milwaukee gal wanted was a beer (birre), but Italy is not exactly well known for its brew.
My apartment, being close to Termini, was a convenient location to hit the late-night supermarket in the station, and so I decided to take a gander and see what kind of oat soda I could find.
After one lap around the supermarket, I finally find the proverbial goldmine at the end of the rainbow (read: aisle). A delicious Weissbier being just the thing, I take a half liter and pay up.
A kindly Italian man was nice enough to pop my top (of the beer bottle, that is, sicko), and I walked out of the doors tasting the delicious alcoholic bounty of hops, wheat, water.
"Aaaaah, this is just what I needed," I purred.
The three Australian men standing next to me did a double take.
1 comment:
I think you just described a fantasy of mine. Did the Aussie guys then offer to give you diamonds and Ferraris and just talk to you with their lovely accents??? Oh wait...my bad.
Glad to hear its going well! Enjoy for the rest of us!
Post a Comment