DON'T send in the the clowns...!

Last Sunday evening, after one of my friends returned from home from a day outing, we decided we would take a little stroll before curfew, which is at 10:30 p.m.

We took two Aranciata’s which had been bought for us from a friend, sat by the Pantheon for a bit to listen to a tenor who sings ‘everyone’s favorite opera selections’, every Sunday evening, as long as there is no rain, which might ruin his accompaniment: a boom-box (Two things: a. I love that the Italians are so not on the page technology wise as we are in the United States. This allows me to see people who still use boom-boxes, and even better, stores which still SELL boom-boxes. b. This tenor is actually really very good!! So it’s getting a really good concert for free ☺ ) Afterwards, we decided we would walk to the Trevi Fountain because it’s really beautiful at night.

Well, on our way to the Trevi Fountain, we passed a restaurant with outside seating. And because our luck is such, their entertainment couldn’t be something normal to Rome, like someone pretending to be a sphinx, a mime, or a guy who sings country western on guitar (Yes. There is a man who stands in front of ‘Basilica Maria sopra Minerva’ practically everyday and sings country. Don’t worry...Not in Italian.) Nope. Their dinner entertainment was a CLOWN. A clown. Not just any clown. Oh no! Not like the decent kind you would see at a child’s party. It was a very CREEPY clown, a man dressed in crazy clothes and make-up, who thought it was really funny to talk to all the people who were walking and play tricks on them. (‘Slowly I turn…Step by STEP!’ …I Love Lucy, anyone?) Immediately I think to myself, ‘Oh no.’ and I say to Adriana, ‘There is a clown.’ And I suggest we past by him as quickly as possible, the whole time thinking, ‘This clown is up to no good.’

Now, I know it sounds as if I am being exaggerated, afterall he was just a clown…Right? WRONG! My suspicions were quickly proven to be true. No sooner did we begin to pass him, than he decided to be finished his previous joke and yell, ‘Oh là là!’, which of course everyone who was eating outside thought was so funny! Me: Not so much. So in my mind I think, ‘I should just walk faster.’ And we do. But as usual I underestimated this clown and his desire to speak to me and my friend. As we were walking away, he GRABBED my leg! Which made me let out this giant scream!

O.k…Many people can say they have come to Italy and been accosted, especially women…o.k. MOSTLY women, by restaurant owners, taxi drivers, Carabinieri, or just any Italian male in general, but a CLOWN? No, folks. That only happens to me.