The moment everything changed

The moment re-entry actually began seemed so insignificant. I’m almost embarrassed to share this moment publicly because it seems like such a so what kind of thing. Yet the times I’ve tried describing it I’ve nearly started crying because I so clearly remember how utterly confused, lost, and alone I felt in that moment.

The Great Italian Pizza Fiasco of 1994

We’re convinced the waiter scammed us. Overcharged us because of our U.S. citizenship. Because we’re young women. Because we can’t speak Italian. We leave Italy with a very bad impression of the entire country. All based on one experience in one restaurant in one city. We decide we’ll never go back to Italy. But then, the more I think about the incident during the next few weeks, the more uneasy I become. Is it possible that the waiter hadn’t scammed us?