Monica, Enzo, and Giuseppe
Once, if I remember well, I was walking up the aisles on a United Airlines flight, from Rome to New York City, when I landed on a pair of empty seats behind two Italian men who wouldn’t stop talking. There was hardly anybody on board—a blizzard was about to hit the east coast of the United States and we were the last plane going in—but I found it odd to hear these men talking, sometimes arguing, loudly in the back of the cabin. They sat near the front in first class; although my ticket was in the smoking section... Читать дальше...