Lost in Translation - Italian

Before going to Rome I had the grandest most spectacular expectations of the romantic people, food and architecture.  I couldn't wait to land and start exploring.  As me and my two friends (Mia, 52, curvaceous outgoing Mexican woman and Nikki, 35, fun blonde fellow spoiled American) landed, we were met with some unexpected experiences.  

In the airport we craned our necks looking for the dapper private car driver we expected to see holding a sign with our names.  Instead we finally noticed a piece of torn lined paper with one of our names scrawled in lipstick.  Ok... At least he's here.  Then we were told by the man with lined paper that our driver was running late so he'd been phoned to find us and ask us to wait.  Now we're waiting for our airport escort....

Not the best start to our adventure but we were still undeterred.  About 15 minutes later our real driver materialized and he was quite the specimen.  Probably 6'-2", on the chunky side, completely disheveled and needing a shower.  Swaggering, he led us to our chariot.  Excitedly  walking down a line of sexy, sleek black cars we finally arrived at our 10 year old light blue Mercedes.  What a let down  You could see every year of service etched in the interior of our chariot.....   at least we have a ride now!

So there's a bit of a language barrier but with the driver's scattered English and Mia's Spanish (just like Italian right?) we were able to converse a least a little.  With the music blasting and the windows rolled down we were off on our Roman adventure!!  One common theme with these travelers.... we all love men and love to have a good time.  Mia wasted no time in starting to flirt with our new Italian escort.  Despite his sloppy appearance he was kinda handsome and an accent makes everyone more attractive right?!  

After a fair bit of flirting our driver announced he liked bamba and asked if we were interested.  We were all a little bit confused.  What could bamba be?  We were dancing in the car so we made dancing motions and asked "This Bamba?"  The driver seemed to indicate yes, that's what he liked!  Of course we love bamba!!!  We dance all the time!  I can still see Mia car dancing and yelling "I Love Bamba!!"  

After a bit more flirting it started to seem that bamba wasn't dancing.  Mia decided it must surely mean big butts.  Our driver liked a nice big ole backside and boy was he in luck because Mia was packin'.  So she points to her butt, "Bamba?".  After a few minutes it seemed like bamba didn't mean a big butt either.  What could it be?

Finally our driver made a sniffing motion and it dawned on me.  Cocaine.  Our driver was a coke fiend and was excited that it seemed like we might also want to partake!  Mia yelling "I Love Bamba!!" still echoed in the streets.  And to sweeten the deal he promised he could take all three of us back to his place, get lots of bamba and satisfy us all.  All three of us by himself.  What a generous guy.  So now you know... bamba in Italy is cocaine and hire the private driver from the airport, you never know what kind of an experience you're in for!