The Trattoria Roma Restaurant in New York City did a wine festival, in October. As a part of it, they had a grape stomping ceremony. It was held on a Saturday at the restaurant. A makeshift stage was set up for the occasion.
At 8:00pm, Gino Rizzolo, the owner, came out.
"Hey, how's everybody doing, tonight!" he said. The diners stopped eating and cheered. "Thank you! I'd like to thank all of you for coming out tonight and enjoying our food and especially our fine wines!" There were more cheers. "Ok, as promised, we're going to have a display of grape stomping by four beautiful maidens. So, let's bring them all out, now!"
Four girls joined Mr. Rizzolo. They all wore Italian dresses and were barefooted. One of them was Ann Marie. The crowd cheered.
"And now, the grapes!"
Three husky men brought out a large vat and put it down on the stage. It was filled with red grapes. Again, there was applause.
"Ok, ladies, get into the grapes!"
They got in.
"And now, let the stomping begin!"
A 4-piece band played Italian folk music and the girls stomped on the grapes. The diners clapped to the beat of the music.
About three minutes into it, "disaster" struck; one of the girls tripped and fell into the grape mash—Ann!
The band stopped, and the other girls picked her up. Mr. Rizzolo walked over to her.
"Are you ok, sweetheart?"
"I think so. My dress isn't, though!"
This causes much laughter.
"Please continue," she said.
"You want to continue?"
"Why not; I'm messy, anyway!"
"That's the spirit!"
The diners applauded. The music started up again, and the girls continued stomping the grapes. They did this for five minutes. Afterwards, there was much applause. The girls got out of the grapes. The curtsied to the diners. Towels were given to them, and they cleaned their feet off. Then they left the stage.
"So, how did it happen, exactly?" asked Don. He was at Ann's apartment, the next day. They were sitting on a couch together.
"I think I slipped on some of the grapes and just fell in!" she said.
"I see. Well, I must say, you handled it very well, Ann."
"Thank you, Donald."
"By the way, what's it like stomping barefoot on grapes?"
"Like stomping barefoot on cold eyeballs!"
"That's a good way to put it!"
"It was fun, actually." She took her shoes off. "My feet aren't purple, are they?"
He looked at them. "No, Ann, they're the same color as they usually are!"
"That's good to know!"
Her phone rang, and she picked it up.
"Hello?...Oh, hi, Seymour…It did?...A JOB?!...sure, I think I'd be willing to do that…THAT MUCH?!...wow!...yes, I'll be right there, thank you so much!...goodbye!" She turned to him. "Oh, Donald, I can't believe it!"
"Great news! I was a big hit at the Trattoria Roma, last night."
"Despite falling into the grapes?"
"No, because of it!"
"They want me to do it every Saturday night. I go out there, stomp on the grapes, and fall into them! It pays $100 per week!"
"Not bad for a pratfall!"
"That's right! Oh, I've got to see Seymour for the details." She put her shoes back on.
"I'll drive you over to him."
They kissed and walked to the front door.
"Now, I might have to worry about purple feet!" she said.
"Well, you can afford pedicures, now!"