One night, in Rome, taking a bus along a popular route, more and more Romans get on at each stop as fewer and fewer get off, there is no more room to squeeze in even one more bambino, but no, five strong adults, all ages -- 2 men, 3 women, dressed to the nines -- force their bodies into the mix and imbed their trendy wool coats and plaid scarves and leather shoes into the stomach of the gastrovehicular autobus as it sputters through the unmarked lanes of chaos that delineate the city's twisting streets. Next stop no one gets off but four more want on and there is no room to contort ourselves anymore but they insist, and to everyones moaning consternation, they force-feed their muscle and fat into the tightening gut causing all of the other bit-masses to groan in displeasure and start their musical bickering, the bickering soon turns into feverish arguing, the emotional stops and starts of the bus giving way to full-blown hot-headedness, everyone steaming now, the sizzling language pit catching like a gas line so that everyone regurgitates their own testy opinion until it's no longer possible to hold the collective discomfort in! -- the bus interior explodes! -- one person breaks out with a clusterbomb of flatulent laughter, another starts singing sick songs of smelly sweat like it's some dark situation-comedy composed for ex-worker's unions all across the globe, and before the song ends three others are already metamorphosizing their mumbled stress into bursts of lyrical laughter and forgetting so that now everything is a joke and expected to be so. Finally, the next stop, we hear a few "scendre" and six get off while only four more get on, the next stop is a total loss of three with more polluted yet "fresh" air coming inside, the stomach is loosening its people-bowels and La Dolce Vita, the good, sweet, delicious life, is becoming as regular as its ever been.