There is so much material I could put into this post, so much ammo I have gained in the last nine months living with an Italian and hanging out with his Italian friends. But I think the ultimate declaration of this statement was made while we were in Madrid on the amazingly organized hostel pub crawl. Our hostel offered a variety of organized events which paired us with three other nearby hostels and, therefore, a myriad of other travelers. We met lots of people; a group of Irish girls, a couple of French-Canadians and a brother-sister pair from Louisiana.
As we hopped from pub to pub downing our free shots (of what seemed like simply sugar) we encountered countless time the ever-so-amazing song Tu Vuo Fa La Americano, which was impossible to get away from hearing at least five times a day, much to the delight of my Italian travel mates. Every time the song came on you could spot the Italians a mile away as they excitedly jumped up and down and sang along.
We encountered such a group of guido-esque Italians jumping along in the last official pub of the crawl, just as we were heading for the door. Our enthusiastic mate Corti decided to share the Italian love and join in, encouraging us all to do the same. We spent a few minutes jumping and singing when Monty, the Louisiana brother, pulled me aside.
“I don’t want to be offensive and I don’t care, I just want to know… are they gay?”
Just then Laura, Corti’s girlfriend joined our side conversation and Monty turned to her questioningly. Her answer says it all:
“No, no, they’re Italian.”