CAMERANO: Every night is ladies' night (or so it seems sometimes in Italy)

IT'S NINE O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING, you’ve already had dinner, and you’re in Italy – quick, what do you do? Well if you’ve been to Europe before you know that the only thing to do is unwind with an authentic glass of wine… or two or three.

With the summer evening air setting the perfect atmosphere we find a quaint Trattoria called Strologo and take a seat outside. One problem. There are only three chairs and four of us.

Behind a beaded curtain we see a waiter and we catch his attention. “Scusa, un autre (we pointed to the other chairs)” we explain that we’ll be needing an additional chair. After this mini game of charades he understands and disappears behind the beaded curtain.

Waiting on the small patio outside, we observe the diners inside. They are loudly enjoying the huge plates in front of them. That visual, plus the aroma of fresh pasta sauce floating through that curtain is enough to make my stomach growl…even though I had already eaten dinner.

Our waiter returns with the chair and we promptly order a bottle of wine, but it sounds more French than Italian, “une bouteille vino bianchi, per favore?”

We can see the amusement in his eyes and he corrects us. He asks if we would like a bottle of water with that. This is the first Italian question we understand and so with enthusiasm we all shout “NON GRAZIE!”

No sooner does our waiter burst into laughter than we realize that our enthusiasm has been misunderstood as enthusiasm against water, as if we are saying forget the water bring us our wine! But it’s too late to explain because he has already disappeared back behind the beads becoming only a silhouette in the noisy restaurant.

After a few glasses the time seems to just evaporate and so does the wine because before we know it, our waiter is back asking if we’d like another bottle. We shrug and agree - I mean we are in Italy after all and we wouldn’t want to offend our new friend.

During our second bottle of wine is when we just can’t take it anymore. We have to surrender to the smell of food still taunting us from inside although the customers have long since gone home. We call our waiter once again and ask him for a menu. And once again he laughs in our face. It’s a friendly laugh though, so we don’t mind.

But we can’t quite figure out what we’re doing wrong this time. He explains but it’s to no avail since we clearly aren’t masters in the Italian language.

Charades ensue and we finally get it. The kitchen is closed and our waiter thinks it’s oh so funny that we were even asking since it’s eleven at night. I guess the Italians are immune to the late night munchies.

The light behind the beaded curtain goes out and we decide we might have over-stayed our welcome. We finish our drinks and ask for the bill.

When our waiter appears through that curtain for this last time that night, he smiles and shoos us away. We look at each other with confusion and then restate our request for the check.

“Il conto?” we say again, figuring that once again we were butchering the Italian language.

He shakes his head and shoos us away again.

No bill? Free wine all night? We thank him and bid our goodbyes. Walking away we announce to the waiter, “Lunedi we’ll be back!”

- Caitlyn Slivinski

EDITOR'S NOTE: We know the Italian words are spelled wrong and used improperly in this story ... that's part of what makes it funny.