Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Gnocchi Brain

My aunt in Fiesole, Italy had a 50th birthday party this last weekend, and because I live in England I hopped over there (okay, I rode coaches through the night, flew to Pisa, and then trained to Fiesole in a small matter of about half a day). My mom, grandfather, aunt, and brother also came over as a surprise. Although there was food, mirth, and an abundance of stories, the hilarious peculiarities of my grandfather on holiday stuck with me and made me chuckle on the long commute back to England.

At one particular time, after he ate gnocchi for three days straight, he was feeling the weight of jetlag. He took elevators whenever he had the opportunity, and he didn’t realize that some of them opened on both sides. So when it came to a stop, the doors opened behind him and he faced the ones that he had come through. After waiting awhile for the doors to open, he began muttering and repeatedly pushed the emergency button while the hotel lobby buzzed behind him. The hotel receptionist eventually came in and tapped him on the shoulder to ask what the problem was, which gave him quite a fright.

I love old people.