In this newly found single life that I’m leading, I’ve noticed that I have a lot of things going on. Suddenly, I’m a man about town. Or something like that. One of my students offered to buy me dinner last Friday evening, needless to say, I accepted without hesitation. Once we met up we decided to have sushi at a place near his house. It was one of those conveyor belt type places which is something of an oddity here in Rome but old-hat for Americans. Anyway, dinner was good, not the best sushi ever but good, nevertheless. We had been speaking in sort of a pigeon, half-English half-Italian, language all evening.

After dinner, the server asked if we wanted a coffee, I said yes (in Italian, of course). Then he started clowning me to Federico by asking him if I really wanted a cappuccino or an American coffee. Now, a little background. In Italy, a cappuccino after morning is a no-no and to have one after a Japanese dinner is utterly inexplicable to Italians. He knew I was a foreigner so he was just bustin’ chops by making the cappuccino comment. Without even thinking, I said “vaffanculo!” which translates to “fuck off!” Then I proceeded to tell him, in Italian, I didn’t want a cappuccino, a caffe Americano, or anything but an espresso! Needless to say, the server (a mountain of a man, to say the least) and Federico were shocked. Then I realized that I had said something I really shouldn’t have said, I immediately apologized to him. They throw that term around here in Rome like it's nothing but it is really something friends say to friends at the bar, not foreigners to Italians in restaurants.

A few minutes later he brought the coffee out…he walked up to the table with the plate and cup in his hand. What I couldn’t see was that he had put the spoon through the handle of an empty cup. Then he pretended to stumble towards me and dump the coffee into my lap. The cup was empty and because the spoon was threaded through the handle and in his hand nothing spilled or fell on me. I screamed like a little girl and I have to admit I had quite a scare. I really thought I was about to have hot coffee dumped onto my lap. Federico said my face was priceless, and I don’t doubt that. After we all had a good laugh about it and I apologized even more before we left.

The server taught me a very valuable lesson, one that Hemingway had tried to warn me about in For Whom the Bell Tolls or A Farewell to Arms, I'm having trouble remember which it's from right now: One should only curse in one’s native tongue.