Getta Me a Passaporta!

My hero.

I actually did it; I sent in a deposit! I decided to do it post haste, before I had a chance to change my mind. I do that a lot; I'll decide to do something and then decide not to, usually either because I tell myself I can't afford it or I don't deserve it. Well, I probably can't afford this either, but I decided that I do deserve it, by golly! I've waited all my life to do this...im lo achshav, eimosai*? Do I know how much longer my life will be? A glance at the itinerary quickened my pulse immediately. First of all, we're slated to meet the world famous Chef Boyardee! I have long been an admirer of The Chef (he actually prefers "His Chefness"). While none of his delectible creations are kosher, anyone who can combine meatballs with dinosaurs qualifies as a culinary genius in my book. The Chef is quite old and frail and lives in a nursing home in a tiny fishing village called Corniglia. If he's not able to receive us that day, we will hopefully still be treated to an audience with his roommate, Uncle Ben. Then it's on to the Leaning Tower, the world famous monument to Italy's beloved national food. The Rabbi will attempt to answer some of the more widely asked questions about the tower, such as: Why are all the Pepperoni slices on the bottom? How has it stayed fresh all these hundreds of years? Of course, everyone knows why it leans to the right: it was designed by a Sicilian ancestor of Sean Hannity, Fr. Nunzio Hannitini. This bit of Italian trivia of course begs the question, why doesn't the tower contain any Sicilian slices? Speaking of trivia, we are also sceduled to visit one of Rome's most popular tourist attractions, the Trivia Fountain! You stand there watching the beautiful fountain spew forth its thousands of gallons of Asti Spumante while wearing complimentary headphones through which you hear such vital tidbits as the name of Michael Corleone's first wife who was killed in by a car bomb meant for him (Appolonia). In magnificent Venice we'll have a chance to go for a ride in a gondola, but unless I meet a nice Jewish/Italian girl who has no interest in matrimony, I think I'll pass. Riding a gondola alone immediately identifies one as a perdente', or loser. The Italians have long complained that it's much easier to form an "L" on one's forehead than a "P", and there is actually a movement afoot to have the word officially changed to its English counterpart. I could go on and on, but I'm sure by now you get the gist of how very special this tour promises to be. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go brush up on my Italian. So far I can say "Pasta", "Bologna," and "Mafia" rather fluently and with my usual verbal aplomb.

*Im lo achshav, eimosai? = If not now, when?