Did I Do Something Wrong?

A Tale From Orvieto, Italy

I am not exactly sure what the badge said, but it looked official to me. He was probably in his mid-30’s and his partner a bit older, perhaps 50-something. Any other time and I would have thought “hottie”, but with the flash of the badge and the ensuing questions, all thoughts of flirting with the attractive Italian man flew out the window.

I was just finishing up my food shopping spree in Orvieto and was about to head down the road to my B&B that sat just down the hill, outside of the city walls. I was hungry and ready to eat. This “hottie” with the badge was standing between me and food – and Italian vino. He better have a good reason.

Orvieto Cathedral

“Your receipt,” he said, pointing at the plastic bag in my hand filled with a small bottle of olive oil, cured meats, cheese and a bag of biscotti. The receipt was buried in my backpack with the rest of my food, wine and personal belongings. The camera was in the bottom half of the pack. I took off the pack to look, feeling put out by it all.

“How much you pay,” he asked in broken English.

“19.25 euro,” I replied, remembering the exact amount. Hottie looked at his partner, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Did I do something wrong,” I asked.

“No, not you,” he said emphatically.

Whew, I thought. What was going on? Did the nice man back at the meat store not charge me tax or something? I was confused, but didn’t want to be uncooperative.

Restaurant in Orvieto with outdoor seating

I found the receipt which I showed Hottie.

“Come with us,” he said. Whaaa? Seriously, I was wondering what might happen. But, we were on a main street and there were others around.

“Ho fame,” I complained in Italian. I was so hungry.

“Just a minute,” he said, trying to appease me.

Street in Orvieto

We walked just a short way to the to-go pizza place where I had just bought some pizza bianca. He went inside with the receipt while I stayed outside with 50-something. But, this wasn’t right.

“No, not here,” I exclaimed. I had not bought the bag of goodies at this place. Just the pizza bianca that was in my backpack.

50-something called to Hottie inside and Hottie came back out, gave me the receipt and said, “Sorry.” At least he looked slightly apologetic.

Yeah, buddy, you better be. I quickly walked down the road before they decided to stop me for something else.

As I made my way down the hill, tummy growling, I tried to figure out what this whole fiasco was about. The only thing I came up with is that they thought the lady at the pizza place sold me goods she wasn’t supposed to – the meats and cheeses.

When I got back to my B&B, I sat on my terrace and stuffed my face, forgetting all about my brush with the law. Or maybe that was the wine…