Well the Internet did not lead me astray. A quick google of "formal wear" in Siena turned up three places within walking distance of Palazzo Ravizza. I don't know why I didn't turn to google first?
I stopped by the hairdresser to see how my beautiful bride was doing. I popped my head in, saying "Ciao, bella!" which the ladies in the shop loved! I asked them what time she would be done. They didn't know. I told nancy about my predicament, but she didn't seem concerned. Turns out, she was a prisoner of war, but gave no indication of the torture they were inflicting. No wadded up note in my hand, begging for help; no plaintive cry for help; no blinking "t-o- r-t-u-r-e" in morse code with her eyelids; nothing. I thought she was fine. I didnt find out until later that they had stuck sticks deep into her cuticles, had temporarily made her up to look like Mimi from The Drew Carrie Show, and had cut her bangs short, even though she had specified no hair should be touched. The whole transaction was a war of wills, hand-grabbing and hair-pulling, done without a common language. The ladies couldn't understand why Nancy wanted to be married in Siena, and Nancy couldn't understand why these ladies wouldn't conform to the acts of the Geniva Convention.
It was at this moment that the ladies realized I was the "sposito." They immediately covered Nancy, shooing me out of the shop. Little did I know this was just their way of avoiding scrutiny by UN inspectors, lest their WMD become known to me. Not knowing any better, and having a quest on my mind, I left "la mia fidanzata" in the hands of the terrorists and was on my way to follow up on my goodle leads .....
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