Going Along to Get Along

Many people ask me if I travel with my husband when he goes on business trips.
I can give you two reason I don't travel with him:  I don't do well in herds and gone are the days of chivalry.

One evening in Italy, being the only female, it became increasingly apparent to me that I was at a great disadvantage in a male herd. I say herd because the feeling seemed eerily similar to something I had seen before, but on a farm.
A herd of cows just meandering along without a leader or a plan. 

There were eight of us trying to find a place to eat.  It was August, most the best restaurants were closed because the Italians were on vacation. We wandered the streets for hours reading the menus posted by the restaurant doors.  I saw some clean, upscaled restaurants along the way that I had suggested to the group, but there was always one person who did not want to eat at that particular restaurant.
It's Italy.  It's pasta and garlic. What's the problem?  It would have been so much easier if there were a Pub on the corner.
I don't remember anyone, other than me; making suggestions. We wandered from door to door; street to alley; alley to street passing every restaurant in sight. After a long while I had another eerie feeling:  Neanderthals wandering through the wilderness. I was so ready to sit down and have a good meal and enjoy the atmosphere while it was still light enough to see what I was eating.

Several hours later, lying in the dirty oily stained gutters where the cars were parked, a zillion cigarette butts disappeared into the dark of night where the guys found the perfect restaurant for discriminating diets. The one with the dimmest outdoor menu lights. Never mind there were no more tables left; inside or outside the restaurants, the manager was thrilled for more customers and the guys were hungry enough to eat a dead cat after all of their wilderness meandering.

I didn't say a word the entire time as the waiters magically produced a table and planted it directly on the cobblestones in the gutter between two parked cars.  How romantic. It's gets better.  Nothing's too good for the Lady.  Out of the dark, two potted trees came flying through the air and rested between the car and my chair.  Presto!  I'm in heaven.

The only light offered for this Italian inspired romantic dinner was on a wall far from the gutter.  I could feel the medieval essence, wobbling in my chair in the dark wondering what I was eating.

Lucky for the owner, those two parking spots in front of his restaurant were empty when we showed up.  I kept thinking about all those fabulous restaurants we passed up, just to get to this one.

What was your question again?