The Last Supper

When Todd and I were in Italy 2002, we made plans to see The Last Supper while were in Milan. (We flew in and out of Milan.) We planned ahead and reserved tickets for it, but the best laid plans are often screwed up by a Museum workers strike. So, we arrived at the church where The Last Supper is located, Santa Maria delle Grazie. The doors were locked up, and there was a note on the door, telling us in Italian and English that it was closed due to the Museum workers’ strike.

We stood on those front steps, and a few other tourists came up to the doors, including a Japanese group. It is always fun to try to converse with people when there is a language barrier. The Japanese spoke no English or Italian. Somehow we managed to explain to them that we would be unable to see the painting due to the strike.

While we were there, this guy came up the stairs. He had a moustache and a t-shirt and he just looked so obviously American. He clinched it when he opened his mouth and a very distinct mid-western accent came out; He sounded like a character from SNL’s “Da Bears” skit.

“What’s going on?” he asked?

Todd replied, “There’s a museum worker’s strike, so we won’t be able to see The Last Supper.”

Midwestern guy: “That’s too bad. . . I had heard that one is pretty good.”

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