Wanting to get on my way

I like Italians, generally. But they have their faults. They have become masters of the rip-off. Knowing how to snooker foreigners. That’s their specialty. Focusing on a new arrival. A naive stranger. Most Italians are too smart and savvy to be duped by another Italian. They know the schemes. The Italian ways. I’m still a foreigner. But I’m learning. Sometimes, I’m aware. I’m being duped. But I go along with it. For the sake of the game. To see how it’s played. Means I’m out a few bucks/euros. But so be it. My way of honoring the rip-off artists. Too difficult and time-consuming to fight back. On occasion, I do. Especially if it’s my Italian true love that ends up paying the price. For instance, when I mail her a package from the states, she’s gonna pay a customs fee. No matter what. Even if I mail her an empty package. She may even pay an exorbitant sum. There’s no way of telling. Or predicting. Other than that there’s gonna be a fee. Established by the willy-nilly mood of a customs official. I suspect he gets a percentage of the take. It’s a rip-off. But a way to make money in a sagging economy. Meanwhile, when I’m checking a bag with an advertised ‘low-cost’ Italian airline, I’m invariably asked to pay an extra fee. For my carry-on bag. Which came free on the American airline that I took to Rome. Maybe the bag ways a kilo more than it’s supposed to. Or it’s the wrong shape or color. Anyway, on my last trip, it added up to an extra 110 euros. For a single bag. Of course, I have the option to protest. Even vehemently. In Italian-style. By waving my hands and shouting an obscenity. But I merely want to get on my way. To see my irresistible Italian true love. And they know it at the airport. Because it’s obvious. I’m in love. With an Italian. And with Italian ways. –Jim Broede