To celebrate Ryan’s birthday, a small group of us went to dinner at a nice restaurant in a neighborhood called Testaccio, just over the bridge from our place. Built on top of ancient ruins, the restaurant’s floor was partially made of thick glass offering a surreal view of tunnels and other structures under your feet. Further inside, the main dining room has a more formal look but there’s something dated about it. I kept thinking of a fancy dining car on a first class train from the forties, back when train travel was much more glamorous. But above all, the place was packed with people-watching opportunities: A group of what could have only been politicos wearing suits and slicked back hair. An older couple; she wore fur, he doted on her. And of course the requisite May-December romance. But my favorite moment came when the tuxedo-clad waiter came to explain the specials. I asked him if he could tell me more about a particular dish the menu. His response: “It is enough for you to know that it exists.” Neat.