Peeing at 220km/hr

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Our friend took us on a walk through his small town in Northern Italy. It was hot, so we had some gelato. Gelato is … is… well, it’s so good it ought to be sold by the bucket full.

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…and then it was time to say “see ya later!” To our wonderful friend who shared his home with us. We hopped a train back Venice for some lunch before our train to Rome.

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^^^Venetian Knickers^^^

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We didn’t get to St Mark’s, but we saw this little gem just off the main drag:

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After some of the best (and cheapest!) pizza (at lunch time, follow construction workers. they know where all the good places are. also, some construction workers take a gondola to lunch.), we caught our train to Rome.

It was a very fast train with a dining car which served coffee.

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The human kidneys will process coffee at the same rate regardless of what is going on around them. Even if what’s going on around them is train travel at a very high rate of speed.

It’s hard to pee on a train.

The bathroom is about as big as a college student’s coffee table and the lock is equally minuscule. So while praying that the lock holds and/or no one tries to open the door, I noticed handles beside the toilet. “why would they put handles by the toilet?” I wondered just before the conductor popped an Ollie and I grabbed the handles in terror/desperation/panic.

They put handles next to the toilets for the same reason they put handles on the passenger side of SUVs. They are aptly named “oh, sh*t!” handles. Except in a train lavatory, it’s an appropriate name.

I was terrified. My mind was filled with every conceivable bathroom catastrophe. I can think of a lot of bathroom catastrophes.

And yet, I survived. Next posting: some photos of Rome.

… I survived the high-speed train lavatory. (is that a t-shirt?)

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