So Rimini was a blast and a mo'fuckin' half. We all had a great time and the group was extremely chill, fun, and ready to go hard Bologna Shore style.
We spent all day at the beach. The water was cool and refreshing, and the weather was almost perfect. The only struggles we had were with the women that came around regularly throughout the day asking if any of us wanted a massagio (massage). We then proceeded to continue our BNO weekend by going out hard both nights to some pretty fun discoteche and danced our lives away. 2fun 2handle. But as Sunday rolled around, things started to go a little less smoothly. Some of us got up at the ass crack of dawn (after having gone to sleep 3 hours previously) to catch a 9:47 train from Rimini to Bologna Centrale. When we got there, however, our train had been canceled. I mean, it sucked, but it was manageable. There was another train to Bologna Centrale at 10:41. Then that motherfucker was canceled. Eventually every damn regional train was canceled going in our direction. Being the curious and inquisitive little students we are, we asked the caribinieri what was going on, and their bitch asses done looked at Mari and said (in italian of course) "It's a national strike (sciopero), don't you know...it was on TV". Okay, hold up. Our broke ass college student life is not conducive to staying in a hotel complete with a TV...is that a joke? Why weren't there signs posted at the front door or something? There were still so many people in the station, apparently we weren't the only people that didn't know. So, anyway, we were stranded at the train station...until....my God of a language partner called and said he would come PICK OUR ASSES UP from Rimini (almost 2 hours from his house) so that he could take us to the Cook-out that other language partners were throwing for us (the reason we were taking the early train in the first place). He is probably one the nicest most considerate people I've ever met. So Giulio picks us up and takes us to his house for a hot minute and then we're off to the Cook-out. We had officially survived our first sciopero, but the real fun didn't come until after we got to the cook-out. These Italians be all sorts of crazy...my kinda people :).
The Cook-out was actually one of the fratty-est things I've ever partaken in...including some day time spring week activities. We obviously got there late, so day drinking (my favorite kind of drinking) had already commenced. After a few minutes of being there a ketchup fight had broken out...followed by a nutella fight. After that, one of the language partners found an old squirt gun and filled it with Heineken. And since all the language partners are already aware that I am the resident alcoholic of the group, clearly they thought that I should be the first american kid to get sprayed in the mouth with beer. Usually i would have refused the beer, but I figured, if I'm going to learn to like beer for my 450 Brookers, I might as well start by having it sprayed in my mouth via squirt gun. Then the bottles of wine descended from some unknown location upstairs, 3 of which I probably drank alone. Beer and wine were being sprayed all over the place. Girls covered in beer, boys covered in wine, and everybody was covered in the mud that had been accumulating due to the rain and wasted alcohol. Then the bottles of vodka came down....these kids really know how to go hard on a SUNDAY AFTERNOON (chris rock reference for all those interested...you know who you are). Everything was consumed from the bottle...minimal cups necessary. Everyone was just nursing (aka chugging) what ever bottle they had in their hand. I taught some the italians how to "drop it, drop it low gurl" while my hips were not mothahfuckin' lyin'....so much dancing my thighs done still be burnin' 24 hours later. It was actually a great way to end a somewhat stressful day and fucking amazing weekend. Gettin' fratty in Bologna with mah new gold sparkly strap back hat with da bros da Bologna. 
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