Bella Notte

When we last left our intrepid adventurers, before the aforementioned barfapalooza, we had just come back from a long day of sight-seeing. We took to our beds for a rest, and then for dinner at our hotel's roof terrace overlooking the city. It was stunning. Rome doesn't have any super tall buildings, so you can see for miles and miles (or kilometers and kilometers) and we drank delightful cocktails and ate these light fancy ham sammiches, and watched the sun setting.

At one point, a seagull landed on the roof with us, by our table, and walked over to where it had stashed an ash tray, which it started picking up and banging down. This idiot woman next to us thought it would be a good idea to reward that behaivor with food, and suddenly our seagull let out this ear splitting squawking. Not to brag or anything, but I have seen many a seagull in my time, and I have never in my life heard anything like the noise coming out of one. Have you seen the Little Mermaid? You know that part when Scuttle the seagull start serenading Ariel and Eric in the boat in an attempt to start up some sweet sweet love? That was the noise coming out of this bird (note--Lizzie pointed out that there was a mermaid weathervane by the birds--it probably was Scuttle.) This piercing ululating was a call to its friends, who showed up, mafia like, looking for their cut of our dinner. A waiter came out to swat at them, but they just took a step back, waiting...it was seriously creepy. When no more food was forthcoming, they banged the ashtray a few more times in a threatening manner, and then took off. Probably to poop in our water at the restaurant the next day.