Page 9 of Italy Can Bite Me

Bzzzzzzzzzz!

The lipstick-shaped device buzzes to life in my lap, apparently triggered by the impact. Except no lipstick I’ve ever owned has come with multiple speed settings.

“What in the world is that!?” I yelp.

“Oh, that old thing?” Aunt Deb’s strawberry blonde curls bounce as she beams. “She’s my real travel companion. TSA barely blinked—I told them it was a facial massager!”

It slips off my lap before I can grab it.Oh, come on!

CLINK!It hits the ground and tumbles under the seat in front of us. The buzzing sound grows more intense as it rolls to the next row of seats, like it’s actively trying to create the most mortifying situation possible.

I glance around. Maybe if I’m subtle about this…

Nope. The elderly couple is watching with horrified fascination as I slowly lower myself to my hands and knees. The airplane carpet is rough against my palms as I peer under the seats, looking for a flash of metallic pink among the forest of feet and carry-ons.

A small hand reaches out from two rows ahead, inches from the still-buzzing device. “Mom, look! A toy!”

“No!” I lunge forward, grabbing the lipstick-shaped vibrator. Holy crap, this thing is buzzing like a swarm of angry mama bumble bees. “That’s… that’s not a toy. Well, it is, but… it’s that nice lady’s toy.” I gesture vaguely toward Aunt Deb.

The child—who can’t be more than five—wrinkles his nose. “Old people still play with toys?”

“Kid, you don’t wanna know,” I mutter.

I make my way back to my seat and give Aunt Deb her overactive “travel companion.” I think my hand might be permanently numb.

“You travel with a vibrator in your purse?”

Why am I asking? This is the same woman who once led a conga line through her retirement community, wearing nothing but a feather boa and a smile. The same free spirit who got banned from bingo for suggesting strip rules. She’s my mother’s polar opposite in every way. While Mom was playing it safe in suburbia, Aunt Deb was backpacking through Nepal with a guru named Moonbeam and learning rebirthing breathwork.

“You can borrow that if you want, Katie-darling.” Aunt Deb winks, her bold blue eyeshadow somehow making her look both elegant and scandalous. “That’s my backup in-flight entertainment, and it appears I won’t be needing it tonight.”

“We’re on an airplane!”

“Exactly!” Aunt Deb’s eyes light up like someone just handed her a shirtless fireman and a cheesecake. “You’re free as a bird, baby girl. Time to spread those wings and maybe spread some other things too—know what I mean?”

She rummages more in her Mary Poppins naughty bag and pulls out a small flask masquerading as a water bottle, followed by what appears to be a Ziploc stuffed with suspicious herbs. Oh Lord, please don’t let those be actual narcotics.

“Listen here, Katie-kins,” she says, wagging her manicured finger. “Time for some ground rules for our trip. Rule numero uno: don’t cramp my style! I’m here for the three F’s: food, fun, and…” She glances at the scandalized couple across the aisle. “…becoming friendly with the locals. Not necessarily in that order.”

I watch in horror as she pulls out an entire strip of condoms. “Oh my God!”

“Honey, at my age, you’ve got to be prepared for anything. These hips might be vintage, but they’ve still got some miles left on them! Just ask that charming Argentinian tango instructor from last month’s cruise.”

The elderly woman one row over clutches her pearls so hard she’s about to have a bead-related safety incident.

“Now,” Aunt Deb continues, completely oblivious to our growing audience, “if I want to stay out late or invite a Casanova in—and I do mean in—I’ll need the room.Comprende?”

I’m reminded that this woman got escorted out of the Vatican for skinny-dipping in Saint Peter’s fountain with her tour guide. Mom still hasn’t recovered from that particular sisterly scandal—probably why she opted for babysitting duty.

“But other than that, this is our trip, darling!” She leans in close, and I smell her signature Chanel No. 5. “This is your sexual awakening! You need to go find the first Italian man who makes your lady parts tingle and let him rock your world.”

“Aunt Deb!” I sputter, my face burning. “I’m here to win Jared back, not jump into bed with a stranger!”

“Oh Katie,” she sighs. “Marriage is a prison of boredom and routines. You’ve been set free, yet you’re trying to put the shackles back on like they’re Cartier Love bracelets.”

I’m about to explain that my idea of wild abandon is ordering dessert before dinner, when Aunt Deb spots something over my shoulder and practically levitates.

“Well, hello, silver fox,” she purrs, adjusting her layers of necklaces. “If you’ll excuse me, darling, I’ve spotted a rather distinguished gentleman in business class who could use some company.”

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