Rome: Fired over a negroni

A Letter from Katie Botkin in Rome:

After the papal blessing, I spot Mary, who has been standing not far away in the crowd of the faithful and the curious, and we decide to go get something to drink in the shade. There’s a nice-looking place in a nice-looking alley not too far from the Vatican, where the cocktails are nine euros, and Mary orders a negroni.

The waitress, however, brings her a Corona. Mary shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’d love to drink that, but I just don’t drink beer at all. I ordered a negroni.”

The waitress attempts to argue with her, but Mary insists, politely, so the waitress goes off. She comes back, enunciates a sentence I don’t understand, with “responsible,” and “story,” in it, and takes away the untouched Corona. Five minutes later, she comes out with her purse, and walks away, disappearing down the street. Mary stares after her.

“Did I just get her fired?” she asks. “Was I unreasonable?”

“No,” I say, “not at all.”

We wait awhile longer for Mary’s drink, but it never arrives. Mary asks another waitress if it’s coming. The waitress doesn’t know anything about it, but says she can get it. “Never mind,” says Mary, “I don’t want it now.”

So we go and get some gelato instead.