Mia compleanno

My birthday went quite normally, up to a certain point. I went to classes and work all day, at restaurant Umberto and Basiliani resort. My lovely classmates announced my birthday to the chefs at Basiliani, and so I got the customary kiss-on-both-cheeks from them. After class, four of us walked into town to get groceries for a nice dinner later this weekend. I wanted to walk further and get gelato as well, but everyone else was strangely against it- they all agreed we should go back with our groceries and get dessert at the restaurant in the resort.  So we walked back, headed to the restaurant, but stopped outside the door. At this point I was a bit suspicious. Again, the rest of my group unanimously decided that it’d be better to go to the little bar by the outdoor dance floor for dessert, instead of the restaurant. So we went there, and walk in to find everyone else in the Paul Smith’s group, half of the students from Monroe College (who we’re traveling with), and Francesco, Pino’s son and the boss of the whole resort while Pino’s away. He comes up, wishes me a happy birthday and says, “Cake in about an hour, but you all stay here! We have dance and drinks!” And then I am swarmed by people wishing me happy birthday and offering to buy me drinks… Someone (who shall remain nameless) had told Pino about my birthday last week, and he had an entire party planned out. Everyone got invited, and told not to let on about it. Matt, Kayla, and Kelcey had been assigned to get me to the bar at the right time. Francesco set up lights and a sound system in the bar, since it was raining, and hooked up his laptop and digital turntable (I think Francesco only runs the resort because of his father- what he really enjoys is DJ-ing). It was an awesome party. When the cake finally arrived (about an hour late, true southern Italy style), it was announced with loud and incredibly glittery party poppers, and brought out with bottles of prosecco. Everyone sang happy birthday, although some were singing in English, some in Italian, and the ones who’d had a few drinks in English AND Italian. One cake was dense chocolate brownie with hazelnuts, covered in powdered sugar and cocoa: the other was a cheesecake topped with red and black currants. I was overwhelmed. 
On a side note, I did have one drink: I refused everyone’s offers and pressures to do 21 shots or some other such American nonsense, but Cortez made an offer I couldn’t say no to. “I will buy you an alcoholic beverage for your birthday, but I’ll light it on fire for you too!” How could I resist? I’ve always wanted to see a mixed drink that you can light on fire…. I watched the bartender pour a tiny bit of about five different bottles into a little glass- the first two were clear, the third made it turn cloudy, the fourth made it turn antifreeze blue. Then he lit the top, and I watched blue flames lick the surface and slosh over the sides weirdly.  To put it out, he slapped his hand over the top of the glass, sealing it. After the fire went out, he shook up the drink without holding it, because it had suctioned onto the palm of his hand. At this point everyone was watching, and the bartender looked at me very seriously and said “are you ready?” before taking his hand off the glass and letting me drink it. It was only two swallows, but it was warm, and tasted like licorice and blue raspberry, which was nasty. I felt light headed for the next half hour, and had to drink a liter of water before the taste left my mouth. I told Cortez never to tempt my pyromaniacal tendencies again.  Maybe on my 42nd birthday I’ll try another flaming beverage, but not until then….