Less than ten things I hate about Italians

Never is the comparison between Italians and real people so stark as when I’m just back from a trip home.

Yoinked to the forefront of my consciousness are all the little indiscrepencies between our cultures that make me despise them and feel like some more natural, impulsive yet horrifically ungroomed, wholly different species…

In the airport I noticed many things. Little, unimportant details. The condiments of our society. But merely observing these quirks makes my skin crawl. Rage against the beautifully designed machine of Italianness rises and rises… I want to smack people in the face. I start to actually fear that I’ll snap, and actually smack these people. Maybe that will happen. Realise my sanity is hanging on by a thread. And do you want to know exactly what these offenses are?

1. Italians have no fucking clue how to queue. Put any Italian in a queue and they billow out into chaotic zigzagging crowd formation and begin to bicker about the lack of employees waiting to deal with them. The British and socially similar creatures, know queueing. They take it like men, and shut the fuck up unless shit gets really unreasonable. The Italians apply this complete breakdown in all logic and common sense when on escalators too. They cluster with arms spread across to opposite rail, and will become angry and offended with anyone in a hurry to catch a train who tries to walk up past them… or anyone who just likes walking up past them because of the opportunity to displace and annoy Italians this affords….

2. Italians don’t let anyone see them looking unsorted. You won’t ever see an Italian with his boarding card between the teeth, rummaging for forgotten liquids in jacket pockets while reaching the last fervent stretch of airport security queue. You won’t find your passage obstructed by an Italian girl on her hunkers clammily unpacking an overstuffed suitcase. Italian suitcases are in good condition. Italian suitcases glide smoothly and don’t knock into Italian suitcase owner legs constantly. They make me feel self conscious about my disorganised approach to flying, and I have flown so very much in my life, so fuck them.

3. Italians applaud when the plane lands. Even if it’s a shockingly bad landing with turbulence and howling winds. I know they aren’t the only ones who applaud the pilot, but it pisses me off. The reason it pisses me off is that landing is my second most feared part of flying after take off and I’m always in such an emotional mess when the wheels make contact with the tarmac that the drammatic clapping of the other passengers makes me burst out in unwanted, embarassing tears. So please Italians, although I appreciate that we are all grateful to the captain for not killing us in a horrific but quick air death, I do not want you to heighten my emotions any more and make a tit out of myself. So stop this crazy clapping.

4. Italians stare at you all the time. This isn’t just a pervy men thing, although in my egotistical Charlie Sheen type mind it kind of is, but all men and women are constantly staring and judging. The fact is I don’t have that groomed, polished appearance. I can spend hours getting ready and still, I’m a naturally sloppy looking individual. Flying means two plus hours on a bus to the airport (for me) and then some bullshit with taking off shoes and coat and rearranging self then waiting then being on a plane all cramped for another couple of hours and then I arrive in another airport and I look like absolute backpacking shit. I just wish the Italians could fuck off with their unswerving even when you catch them looking gazes and let me be a dirty traveller for one day. I’ve taken to washing my loads and loads of hair every fucking day because of the judgement. If you are a man that doesn’t seem like a lot but I have very long thick hair and it is so fucking boring washing and drying it, so I used to do it once a week (nice) and I’m actually lying it was less than that, and I felt cool with that until Italy and the judgement.

5. Italians just annoy the hell out of me. I want to move countries, I’m completely intollerant. It doesn’t matter what they do, it pisses me off. There is no redemption, they just wreck my head.

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2 responses to “Less than ten things I hate about Italians

  1. The first time I learned you could walk up an escalator was when I was in your country! It blew my mind! “People can DO that?! It makes perfect sense!” Congrats on your part Brits. Americans don’t do that. Ever. We’re all lazy as fuck. People look at me like I just did something horrible to their mothers whenever I do it over here.

    And seriously why are you still in Italy if you’re so horrible? Can’t you just move back?

  2. I’m actually Irish, I just for some reason thought it would help my anonymity to be vague about my nationality while I go into very much detail about everything else, which is stupid, so there now you know. Yeah I want to move back home but have to sort out my separation and lots of irritating responsibilities first, so won’t be free to get the fuck outta here for another 6 months or so anyway.

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