My first meal:
It didn't last long.
I need to learn Italian NOW! Ordering at the airport café was the most humbling thing I’ve ever done. After standing there for five minutes being ignored by the barista and shoved aside by big, loud, Italian men, someone took pity and ordered for me.
I felt like an idiot. All I could say is, “Espresso? Sfogliatella?”
“Cappuccino?”
“No, espresso. Caffe.”
“[something in Italian I vaguely understood to mean] Oh, sure, you look like you need a little help. These men.” (That last part was implicit in a broad sweep of his arm towards the crowd.)
“Grazie. Capisco, ma… Grazie! Grazie!”
I need to learn Italian. Now.
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