Se Telefonando

The women of Via Annia are sick of finals. In the spirit of procrastination, we invited some of our friends for a final feast. There were about fourteen of us, crowded in the usual fashion, eating and chatting. People filtered in and out, the responsible left to study for finals. I was not among this group. Around ten, we dimmed the lights and put on Gloria Estefan. Matteo got into the groove, so much so that he split his pants down the ass. To add insult to injury, he was wearing a faux laurel wreath when this happened. Zoe rolled some sloppy cigarettes and spun me around the kitchen for a while before taking a broom and holding it up to make a limbo bar. At that point, it was a test of flexibility and determination. The wine was flowing and the bar was dipping. After about two hours, the "worst symphony" ever occured. "Se Telefonando," an anthem by 60s sensation Mina, came up on my speakers and among the twinkling lights and empty pizza boxes, the Italians really got going. They were singing their little hearts out, eyes squished and hands clasped. I was sitting on the couch, mouth agape. It knocked the wind right outta me. I wish I could describe the swelling of the chorus, the ridiculousness of the scene, the perfection of this procrastination. After the music subsided, it was time to say goodbye. The American girls kissed their Italian friends goodbye, two kisses for two cheeks, and got a little teary eyed. It seems that after a semester of symphonies and failed quizzes and aching legs, it's almost lights down. Of course, that never stopped us before.