“Let’s go, guys. I’m sure they’ll back off.”

We rose from the bench and began easing away, but the ladies let out an angry tirade of Italian. As they moved closer, I noticed their dirty clothing, mismatched shoes, and bedraggled hair. But it was their faces that scared the hell out of me. They were pinched in rage.

“Uh, scusi, mi dispiace, we go. We go,” I muttered. Allegra called out a phrase in Italian I didn’t recognize, and I grabbed her hand and Mom’s, ready to flee. “We go.”

They attacked.

Holding the sticks up high, they raced the next couple of feet, as if we’d done something terrible and they were bent on revenge. I gave a shriek and held tight to Mom’s and Allegra’s hands, and we ran out of the square as fast we could, our feet pounding on the pavement, heading toward the road we’d passed beforehand.

After a full block, I realized they hadn’t followed, and we slowed down to catch our breath. “Are you okay? Mom?”

“I’m fine. What did we do? Oh my goodness, they were mad! Those were the first not-nice people we’ve met here.”

“Do you think they would have hit us?” Allegra asked in shock.

“No, but I’m guessing the bench was their property and we weren’t supposed to sit there,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Allegra was ahead of me, her fingers flying over her phone. “Screw this, we’re getting an Uber, Mom.”

“Good idea.”

In a matter of ten minutes, we’d made our way to the curb of some street and saw the magic minicar pull up. We squeezed in and I worshipped the age of technology as the driver drove us directly back to our hotel without worry of translation of language or transfer of cash. It was a beautiful thing.

“We’re not cursed or something, are we?” Allegra asked. “You fell down the steps, and now we get attacked.”

“There’s no such thing as a curse. This is what happens when you get lost. Anyway, you wanted an adventure. Guess we got it.”

By the time we stumbled back to safety, the exhaustion of the day had set in, along with a deep satisfaction. I had forgotten the ups and downs that could occur after spending a day with my family. And, yes, we’d annoyed one another, but we ended up sharing an experience we’d be able to laugh at in the days to come. I was just sifting through the realization that this trip had been a good idea after all, when my daughter let out a gasp of shock and stopped still in the lobby. Her gaze was trained on her phone.

“Oh my God.”

My heart stopped. “What is it? Did someone you know die?”

She slowly shook her head, eyes wide. “Something tells me you’re not going to like technology anymore, Mom.”

A strange foreboding washed over me. “What are you talking about? What are you looking at?”