Igualito a su papa (Just like his father)

To say that Ian comes from a security conscious family would be an understatement. I don't complain, though, as I know he will have thought about the many ways to stab a stray dog if it messed with us (really, he did that at least once on this trip). It is certainly true that couples become more like each other with time -- and in our case, we definitely have a way of supporting and encouraging each other craziness.
Upon arriving in Florence I learned that Ian had brought his knife with him (yes, this blog is out of sequence, but it deserved to be published). His knife isn't the small pocket kind that most men carry on their keychains for moments when you may need a small blade or, perhaps, a screwdriver. His knife is the camping/survival kind. He bought it for our first camping trip with our best friends and after watching many an episode of Bear Grills. I probably would have thought it crazy at some point many years ago...but (and this is where you encourage the madness in each other) I actually thought it a great idea this time. Somehow I felt safe walking the dark streets of Florence at all times of the night -- Ian had a camping knife in his pocket which he could swing open with a flick of the wrist.

Then came a Friday afternoon when I had made reservations at the Ufizzi museum. We are in line and about to approach the security point when Ian suddenly realizes he has a large knife in his pants. He turns and asks me what to do, but being that I'm 'igualita a mi mama' I freak out and tell him to throw it away quickly while no one is looking. He agreed (being 'igualito a su papa) and discreetly tossed the large knife in the last garbage bucket just steps away from the security guards. As the knife hits the bottom of the garbage making a loud thump, we were both relieved not to be incriminated with a weapon on us. Then, we see the sign: "Knives, lighters, etc will be returned at the end of the visit." At that point, Ian thought it would definitely be incriminating if he was fishing around the garbage to pull out his knife - plus, it was his turn to put his bag in the security belt. I looked back at the garbage thinking maybe I could stick my hand in it, but the knife had made its way all the way to the bottom of a lot of trash.

We boths presented our tickets and sat down at the first bench we could find. Clearly he had made the right choice -- you don't want to mess with armed guards in a foreign country and try to explain why you had a camping knife in your pocket. Either way, we both knew what this meant...we'd have to find another knife for protection during the rest of our trip.