The hazards of frequenting a pub

Relatively speaking, Siena is a pretty small town. And since I mostly hang out at the same places (school, one euro pizza place down the street from school, bus stop, pub) I was bound to start recognizing people and even make a few friends. You are probably wondering why I would add pub to the list of places that I hang out at. I’ve got three words for you: free. wi. fi. For some reason the internet at the school hates my guts, so while everyone else is world wide web-ing their hearts out after class, I sit on the cold hard chairs and do my homework. It didn’t take me long to find this most blessed Irish Pub providing all the internet I could ever want. And I even found a nice little alcove free of drunken, smokin’ Italian men and hidden from the eyes of that lady behind the counter that always wants me to buy stuff. I do believe it says FREE wifi, my lady, meaning I don’t have to buy anything. …Right? Anyway, I don’t. I always go to the Pub at the same time, and after I had been going a week or so, I made a friend. Or should I say, “friend.” Here’s how it happened. One day he had his bag hanging up by where I was sitting. He came around the corner to get something out of it, and I thought I was in his spot so I said I would move. But he assured me I was fine, then asked if I spoke Italian, and a short conversation ensued. By the way, this guy is a 50 year old Italian man. Just so you know. So, I jokingly told him I’d watch over his bag, and he left. The next day, same thing. He came around the corner and was like, “My guardian!” Then he proceeded to tell me that he teaches boys how to swim and how they are so terrible and curse at him all day so he comes to the pub at the same time every day to get drunk. Hmmmm, I think I’ll sit somewhere else next time. So I tried it. But Giuseppe has a keen eye. That’s right, Giuseppe. He came out to talk to me and said, “My guardian is not there!” Then he sat down and told me all about his job and how he sings songs on his guitar and rides bikes and wants to move to New York. With no encouragement from me! He just starts going and can’t stop! And he always asks me stuff and then creepily remembers it all later. But somehow I got him to stop and said I had to catch a bus. A few days later I was walking past the pub and guess who was there getting on his bike ready to head home? I picked up the pace, said a quick, “ciao,” and booked it around the corner. Since then I have found a new hidden corner of the pub and make my roommate go in first to make sure the coast is clear. I knew the Irish Pub was a little too perfect; there had to be some weird Italian stalker man to make the whole situation a little less ideal. Or a little more interesting.