It was raining and we didn't want to go far. I also felt like pizza, but Elvis was hungry for pasta. So we went to the little place in our building. You do need to go out the door and around the corner to get to the entrance, but nothing is closer, not even the Happy Chinese which requires you to go around the corner and across the street.

Maybe we should have gone to the Happy Chinese. The old incompetent guy saw us first, and seated us back in his section. It is the crappiest section because he is the crappiest waiter. We almost always get stuck with him, because he spends his time loitering around the door instead of actually serving his tables. I think I've mentioned him before. I believe he's someone's uncle or something, so they can't get rid of him.

It's been a while. They've made some changes to the menu, took off the Pugliese (though I'm sure I could still get it if I asked), put all the prices into Euros, and gave them a hefty increase while they were at it.

Elvis had the arrabiata, which he enjoyed. It was spicy enough for him, which can be hard to get in Milan, but not spicy enough for me. It also wasn't too salty, which was good because the cook there loves his salt with abandon. Their family must have blood pressure in the thousands.

I ordered a pizza diavola. With EXTRA SAUCE. The extra sauce is important: pizzas in Italy tend to be far too dry for my taste. Because we had the OIG, I asked for DOUBLE sauce and watched him write it down, so I'd be sure to get it.

I didn't get it.

I almost sent it back, but the OIG had already buggered off to prowl around the door, so that was the last we'd be seeing of him for a while. Plus, I was starving. The spicy sausage on the diavola has plenty of grease, so I figured it wouldn't be too bad.

There was less tomato on that pizza than if I hadn't asked at all.

So, ages later, when the OIG came drifting through to look out the window, I complained.

What followed was worthy of a vaudeville comedy skit. It was even funnier in Italian, but I'll spare you that, although I may write it up to appease my Italian teacher-- especially since... ahem... I didn't do my homework yesterday as planned.

Dilettante: I asked for extra (pi�) tomato. This pizza had hardly any.

Old Incompetent Guy: Yes. Pi� di poco. (Hardly any.)

Dilettante: No. Pi�. (More.) Lots and lots.

OIG: I thought you asked for less.

Dilettante: But I asked for double tomato. Double.

OIG: Yes.

Dilettante: You wrote it down.

OIG: Yes, I did.

Dilettante: Double is more.

OIG: Yes.

Dilettante: So why did you tell them to use less?

OIG: I thought you wanted less.

And so on. I'm proud to say that I never resorted to profanity. It never helps in the face of that much blatant stupidity, in any case.

OIG never resorted to an apology, either.

And, you know, an apology might have made me happy. I fully realize that OIG is not the brightest bulb in the firmament. An "I'm sorry. I'll make sure it won't happen again." would probably have satisfied me.

Not gonna happen with OIG, however. He just stood there, doing a fine impression of a mule, and after a while he wandered off, forcing us to chase him down to get our check. He probably likes a dry and tasteless pizza, and figured that's what I should have ordered. Oh, he took responsibility for what I was served, all right. But he sure as hell was not going to admit he was wrong.

So now we have a dilemma. Do we go back? And if we do, do we accept him as a waiter, or demand to be seated in Middle-Aged Woman's section. I like MAW. She looks all surly and hard, but has a heart of gold. Total clich�. She's the one that makes Elvis clean his plate. "I'll take the potatoes, but you must eat your meat."

Or do we find another pizzeria? Trudge several blocks through the rain the next time I crave a pizza on a stormy night? The next closest one that we tried, about three blocks away, makes a tasty pizza. And they always add plenty of sauce when I ask. But Elvis had a nasty, non-pizza meal there and refuses to go back, despite the fact that they're open on Sundays. Which, coincidentally, gives them an advantage over the place downstairs.