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That train story is amazing, Rogan J. Although I would not now be able to manage the contortionist feats required. 
I got picked up by an Italian air hostess in a train on the way to Venice once.
I had been on holiday in the Italian lakes with my (by then three years estranged) wife, our daughter (then 16) and one of her school friends. Up until then Angela and I had got on extremely well even though living apart. But on this holiday we had a huge row. I had arranged rooms in one of the s****iest Venetian hotels for the last week end of the holiday and had been very much looking forward to taking Angela and the two girls there - none of them having visited Venice before and it being one of my favourite cities. But Angela flatly refused to come and arranged to extend her stay and that of the girls in the hotel where we had been holidaying.
Anyway the train was very crowded and I had to stand in an area between two carriages near the door, crowded in with lots of others also standing. It was a bank holiday week end and the world and his wife was travelling. A conversation sprang up among those of us standing together which became quite lively despite my three words of Italian and the limited english of some of the other people. For a part of the journey three youngsters from the States got in although they did a certain amount of moaning about having to stand. Anyway the air hostess had quite good english and was right next to me so I was talking with her mostly. And, towards the end of the journey she started leaning up against me. So I asked if she would like to join me for a meal in Venice (she lived in one of the towns on the edge of the lagoon) and she said yes. In the end, we spent that week end together.
Although - much younger than Angela though this lass was, and pretty (and an air hostess to boot)- the truth is that I stayed miserable throughout. I did my best to be attentive to the Italian girl but my mind was really full of Angela and our row.
The girl enjoyed herself, though. Because I went through a bit of a phase, starting that week-end, of making myself feel a bit better by splashing money around like water. And if you are mad enough, or miserable enough, to go in for spectacular consumption there is just nowhere like Venice to do it in.
I got picked up by an Italian air hostess in a train on the way to Venice once.
I had been on holiday in the Italian lakes with my (by then three years estranged) wife, our daughter (then 16) and one of her school friends. Up until then Angela and I had got on extremely well even though living apart. But on this holiday we had a huge row. I had arranged rooms in one of the s****iest Venetian hotels for the last week end of the holiday and had been very much looking forward to taking Angela and the two girls there - none of them having visited Venice before and it being one of my favourite cities. But Angela flatly refused to come and arranged to extend her stay and that of the girls in the hotel where we had been holidaying.
Anyway the train was very crowded and I had to stand in an area between two carriages near the door, crowded in with lots of others also standing. It was a bank holiday week end and the world and his wife was travelling. A conversation sprang up among those of us standing together which became quite lively despite my three words of Italian and the limited english of some of the other people. For a part of the journey three youngsters from the States got in although they did a certain amount of moaning about having to stand. Anyway the air hostess had quite good english and was right next to me so I was talking with her mostly. And, towards the end of the journey she started leaning up against me. So I asked if she would like to join me for a meal in Venice (she lived in one of the towns on the edge of the lagoon) and she said yes. In the end, we spent that week end together.
Although - much younger than Angela though this lass was, and pretty (and an air hostess to boot
)- the truth is that I stayed miserable throughout. I did my best to be attentive to the Italian girl but my mind was really full of Angela and our row.The girl enjoyed herself, though. Because I went through a bit of a phase, starting that week-end, of making myself feel a bit better by splashing money around like water. And if you are mad enough, or miserable enough, to go in for spectacular consumption there is just nowhere like Venice to do it in.
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