No, I Don’t Have Drugs

The other day I was walking towards the Metro station when I passed through the haze of a marijuana cloud.  I didn’t think anything of it and kept walking.  A car pulled up beside me and the guy in the passenger seat said ‘Scusa, scusa’.  I responded with my standard ‘Non parlo Italiano’ and kept walking.  The car sped up, pulled to a stop in front of me and the guy asked where I was from.  I thought he looked a bit shifty, so I ignored him and kept walking.  Then he flashed a badge and said ‘Police’.

So I showed him my passport and he asked me if I had been smoking up.  I told him I hadn’t and he asked me to empty my pockets and hand him my passport.  As I passed my money clip and passport, I realized I hadn’t taken a very close look at the badge and this could turn the wrong way at any second.

And then he smelled my passport.

Is that how the police in Italy test if someone has been tokin’ the herb?  Don’t talk to me or take a look at my eyes, no, smell my passport and money clip.

Then he did a really crappy search of my bag and asked if I had any Canadian money.  Was this slang for B.C. bud I had never heard before?  In any case, the answer was no, I got all my stuff back, I checked my bag to make sure he wasn’t trying to do me dirty by planting something there, and I continued on my way into Milan.

I can understand how the Mafia became all powerful if that’s the competency level of the police.

Random bits and pieces

-         Today was the first day I took notice of the nutritional information at the workplace canteen.  I’ve probably been downing at least a thousand calories for lunch and an equal amount for dinner over the past two weeks, along with assorted chocolate and pastries.  Uh-oh.

-         To celebrate this knowledge, I had a pizza that was more cheese than crust for dinner.

-         When you don’t speak the local language, all you ever catch in a conversation are words you know.  Some of my colleagues were talking about movies the other day, and I knew that because I heard ‘Borat’ and ‘Bruno’ and ‘film’.  And they were talking about the attractive, if someone older, ladies behind us at the canteen because I heard the word ‘MILF’.

-         Following that train of thought, Milan is rife with MILFs.

-         I saw some models while shopping in Milan today.  I knew they were models because they were tall, thin and looked like bitches.

-         French accents are hot.

 

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