On the first day of a trip to Sicily Blonde and Brunette were favoring the Sheraton Catania with their SPG points and presence. B&B had gotten a jet lagged late start to the day so had modest sightseeing goals. So modest that they consisted solely of having a tour of Catania via a convertible driven by a local guide. When learning that the tour guide’s name was Fabio, the sisters simpered with eager anticipation.
Fabio, unlike his butter-skeptical counterpart, was butter, when butter wasn’t what was wanted. The Catania Fabio was a nerdy, muscle-tone-free man in his mid-30s who lived with his parents and had to borrow the convertible from a friend. Despite Fabio’s lack of compelling manliness he was an adequate, if unremarkable, tour guide. It was a surprise when he asked B&B, upon drop-off back at the Sheraton, if they would be his “special guests” for dinner that evening at a restaurant on the waterfront in Catania. B&B were not overly excited by the invitation but felt that it was the polite thing to do to accept.
Fabio picked up B&B at the Excelsior Grand Hotel where the Sheraton shuttle dropped off their visitors. Upon arriving at the designated restaurant a Sicilian kerfuffle ensued over the issue of seating three people together in a half-empty restaurant. Eventually the logistical marvel was accomplished and the odd dining trio seated. Strangely, Fabio seemed incapable of providing menu translations. But Brunette, an unexpectedly keen amateur interpreter of pantomime, determined that the waiter’s performance of “fish with a knife” meant swordfish was the evening’s special. Three orders of swashbuckling fish were placed. (Hold the eye-patches.)
Coincident with placing the order, Fabio’s phone rang. He answered immediately and hurriedly exited the restaurant, presumably to have a conversation with the caller. Half an hour passed. All three entrees were brought to the table but only two diners were available. The dramatically perplexed waiter whisked Fabio’s order away and banished it to eventual microwave hell. Still, no Fabio.
B&B consumed their aquatically pugilistic dinners and wondered what had happened to Fabio. After more than 45 minutes Fabio returned to the restaurant in a state of extreme agitation and with a very flushed appearance. He explained that his girlfriend had called him from her honeymoon. (Discuss: Can your girlfriend be on a honeymoon with someone else and still be your girlfriend? Hint: Prince Charles might know.) Fabio had only dated the mystery caller for three months but she was realizing the error of her ways, regretting her matrimonial selection and wanted Fabio back.
The waiter, uninterested in Fabio’s personal drama, plunked the zapped fish down on the table while the baffled sisters quizzed Fabio as to the particulars of his situation. Each inquiry produced an even more unlikely response.
B&B were telepathically communicating with each other. The air waves were crackling with “WTFs” flying to and fro. Could this be true? If so, what kind of dud could this girl have possibly married that made Fabio seem like a better choice? Was the “girlfriend” actually a white powder that had been delivered by the person who called? Were the flushed appearance and the nervousness indicative of love gone awry or recreational pharmaceuticals?
Finally all of the food had been consumed and Fabio, apparently blind to the bills that result from dining with one’s “special guests”, was sulking and seemingly exhausted. He did, however, rally to offer B&B a ride back to the Sheraton. (After they paid the entire bill.)
It’s Sicily. Fabio is a stranger who appears to be weird, nuts, high or all of the above.
B&B accepted the offer of a ride. (If you’re surprised you haven’t read this blog before).
Upon arrival at the Sheraton, Brunette practically jumped from the car as it was still moving and began her version (no one else’s) of a sprint to the lobby. As Blonde removed her seat belt and began to extricate herself from the vehicle, Fabio, in a petulant, whiny voice, said “I wanted to sleep with you”.
Blonde, who has often been the first one to mutter these words, tried to convince herself that she’d heard him incorrectly and croaked out “thanks, goodbye” before chasing down her sister to collapse in giggling horror in the lobby.
After several more days in Sicily Blonde and Brunette both realized that, whatever the issues with Fabio, one had not been misunderstanding his parting remark. All men in Sicily wanted to sleep with Blonde or, failing that, with any other breathing (even barely) yellow-haired woman. Fabio had merely taken the longest to make his desires known.