Oh my gosh, how could I forget the Vatican? Silly me. Let's back up.
When we first got to Italy, we spent a few days in Rome. We saw the Spanish Steps, the Crumbly Colosseum, pickpockets of all ages, and several hundred hideous statues.
But the highlight was our trip to The Vatican.
We were scheduled to sing in St. Peter's Basilica, and we had heard that The Pope Himself might be on site. Goodness gracious.
We were, of course, planning to sing Mr. Director's original composition, Magnificent Glorious Hallelujah I Sure Am Talented In Excelsis Deo. Everyone was quite excited.
I knew that St. Peter's Basilica would have a huge, imposing, phenomenal pipe organ for me to play. The only problem is, I had never played an organ in my life.
I'm a piano player. A pretty good one. But I had told Mr. Director quite clearly, several times, that I do not play the organ. My feet and my hands simply do not cooperate with each other. Feet or hands. Choose one. Can't do both.
Sure enough, we arrived at St. Peter's and there was a rug hanging from the window indicating that The Pope was in the building. There was also a gigantic organ. Gulp.
The choir took their places. The director stood at the podium. And me? I was off to the side, arguing with the organist.
Me: You do it. Really. Here's the music.
Him: Prego. Argobargoandiamocrazyamerican.
Me: I can't. I'm sorry. Please.
Him: Prego. Prego. Issabissayourmusica.
Me: Gotta go. Carry on. I'll be over here hiding behind a pillar.
... and then we headed south ...