As the shop clerk shouted orders, the Segway bounced off walls. I tried jumping off, but hopping off this strange small motor vehicle--which was in gear, whirling uncontrollably, and slamming into walls--wasn't an option. Dizzy and disoriented, I crashed one last time into the wall and finally fell off, backwards. The clerk came to my rescue, perhaps a moment too late, and brought the Segway to a stop.
My mother ran out of the shop's bathroom, yelling, "What happened? What was that crash I heard?" But as the three of us glanced down, little explanation was necessary. The baseboards I knocked off two of the shop's walls--and which now lay broken on the floor--seemed to tell the story just fine.
Shop destruction and all, the clerk still signed off on my rental, and I headed out to the busy streets of Florence. Probably not a wise decision by either of us.
But I figured I'd already set the Segway-riding bar exceedingly low, so what did I have to lose? Per che' non?
Are you more Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday or Kevin James in Mall Cop?