Too sexy for Milan

I shimmy my tush between two tables to my seat. The small tables are snug in this Pizzeria. The restaurant is packed. We are in Milan, fashion capital of the beautiful, sophisticated Italy.

The guy sitting next to me is hot.

Holy crap.

Sarah is sitting across from me. Her knowing glance tells me she has noticed too. Should we introduce ourselves?

We order a bottle of wine first.

He is sitting so close. Like, right beside me. There is about 6 inches between our tables.

I take a long gulp of the red wine. It’s warm. Another sip. Spicy.

I wonder if he is a backpacker like us. I turn tentatively to look at him.

“Ciao” my voice squeaks.

“Hi” he responds. “Are you ladies staying in Milan?”

He is not Italian. He sounds American. I am a bit distracted by his blue eyes.

“Yah, for a couple nights” Sarah replies for me. “Backpacking around Europe.”

I am thankful that Sarah can string together a sentence. Get it together, Andrea.

“Are you backpacking too?” I need to say something.

He shakes his head. “Here for work”. It seems so obvious now he is not a backpacker. He is way too nicely dressed, and chiseled.

“What kinda work?” asks Sarah. Her look tells me to stop staring. And get it together, Andrea.

“Modelling.”

Holy crap.

I sip my wine. Sarah is going have to take it from here.

It turns out he was from Iowa. He was shooting a commercial in Milan. He had dinner with a baron one night. This guys was, for real, too sexy for Milan.*
*this is 1992, Right Said Fred was topping the charts

We visited some fantastic sites in Milan. The Duomo was spectacular and I loved walking freely on the white marble roof among the spires and gargoyles. The iron and glass vaulted Galleria Vittorio Emmanuelle II was the most elegant shopping venue I had ever seen. As our entry point into Italy, it was my first experience with gelato. Exquisite.

This dining experience, however, was the highlight of Milan.

We left the restaurant an hour or so later, a wee bit tipsy. We forgot to ask his name. It seemed inappropriate to take his photo.

Trust me, he was hot.

This is one entry from my 1992 European backpacking trip with my friend Sarah. If you want to start at the beginning, please check out The journey starts in Nice.