Hair Dressers and Umbrella Thieves

So the day after Thanksgiving marked the moment when I first fell victim to a crime. This night was nothing short of bizarre. I now enter the ranks of Amy and Serena, all victims of petty theft. Josh, Mike, and I make a cross town trek to a fantastic restaurant, Gusto, in the pouring rain. We are talking Tiber river flooding, serious umbrella weather, looking to board a boat, rain. Walking in the rain, absolutely no singing, for 30 minutes until we make it to Gusto has yielded wet pants from the knee down (ah the power of capillary action). Now this restaurant is pretty hip and general good manners should be used. As Josh and I don't see an umbrella depository, being the gentlemen that we are, we store our umbrellas outside near the front door. In we go. Our waiter, deemed to be Karen's next hair dresser as he clearly was not a good waiter gives me a menu. I tell him that I am not eating and would just like to see a wine menu. After all I just came for birthday drinks (Amy's b-day). He brings me out a glass and an open bottle of wine. Asks me if it is ok, and before I can utter a word, pours me a taste. Awestruck, I tell him that I want to see a menu. He then does the same for Josh and Mike. This is going to be real fun with an asshole that wants to push overstocks off on foreigners. I take the sample and order a different glass of wine. A couple of hours pass and when it comes time for the bill the fun begins. My glass is not on the bill, so I just blindly give him money. Then the ladies want to separate the check, but he can't do it, which he explains very rudely. The bottle of wine he suggested for the ladies which he claimed was only a couple of bucks more than what they were looking at turned out to be 8 euro more. This is the definition of price gauging. As the girls finagle the cash card dilemma, he has the audacity to tell us that tip is not included and that it is 15%. Surprisingly enough this is the first time while in Rome that this had occurred. What an ass for trying to take advantage of us. He didn't get 15%, and he forgot half a bottle of prosecco on the table which after the bill was signed magically disappeared. Leaving with a sour flavor that contaminates the culinary flavors in my mouth, we bid farewell to the far too stylish and superior Italian who tried to screw us. As I emerge from one barrage and prepare to enter the next, still raining drops so big that the sidewalk looks like fish jumping out of a lake, I realize my umbrella has been stolen. Thirty more minutes of fun in the rain without an umbrella. Where are the umbrella salesmen when you need them. Are they stealing umbrellas and reselling them to other tourists? Ah, Italy.