Let's go back in time . . . (do-do-do-do-do . . . do-do-do-do-do . . . ) I will now tell the story of Evil Shannon in Rome. (As best as I can remember it)

You may want to harken back to the blog of the Happy Days Hostel and Ivano (aka the Fonze.)
Evil Shannon began to make her appearence the night before I left. Fonzie had made it a point to: 1. complain volumously about the French people not being where they said they would be a the time they said they would be there to exchange keys for security deposits. 2. tell us we needed to be at the hostel at 7pm the night before we were all leaving to get the deposit back.

So, there we all were at 7pm waiting for the Fonze. And at 7:30, 8:00, 9:00, 9:30 (at which time I went to bed irratated, but sure that Fonzie would come in the night (before our 3:30am departure) to take the keys left on the table and leave out 5 Euros each.

When I got up in the wee-wee hours of the morning, the deposit fairy had not come, and our keys were still there.

Fonzie had made the mistake of leaving all the extra sets of keys in the kitchen cabinent. There were three of us leaving at the same time, and we were the only three there in the hostel. Therefore, we each had a set, and there were about 8 more sets in the cabinent. We all pocketed our keys and headed over to Fonzie's place and stood there and rang the door bell for about 15-20 minutes straight (3am.) Fonzie did not respond.

Evil Shannon had forseen this situation and had acted out before we left the hostel.

She took all the extra sets of keys and considered taking them all, but knowing that was not nice, she elected to hide each set in a seperate and inconvenient place.

Places she knew Fonzie would never look. They wouldn't have been so hard to find for anyone who cooked or cleaned (ever) but knowing he didn't (ever,) there was a set in the needs-to-be-defrosted freezer, in the never-been-used-and-therefore-clean oven, behind the kitchen door with the dust bunnies and the hair balls, on top of the dusty cabinent, in the whole in the wall (decoratively covered with a place mat) behind the filthy toilet, under the nasty sink and in the not-hooked-up washing machine.

Ivano if you are reading this I'm still laughing at the thought of how you must have reacted when you went to give the next guest his keys and found and empty box.

While I was throwing keys around willy-nilly the one of the other girls asked what I was doing. I said, "I'm hiding the keys." As though that is what one does when she leaves any hostel of good standing.
She said, "Oh." then "You're my hero!"
It's good to influence young people all around the world. I'm that kind of gal . . . influencial.