Venezia Vice City
September 27, 2026
Venice is romantic in theory.
In practice, Venice is f**king insane!
Not for the weak…
The Queen of the Adriatic is like most beautiful women: gorgeous, sentimental, enchanting, mysterious — but gloriously deranged. Honestly, she’s probably best experienced with a pharmaceutical assistance program.
At least, that was Jerry’s conclusion.
Almost every day, after yet another episode of whatever the fuck was happening to us, she would look at me and say:
“You need to be on heavy drugs in here…”
We weren’t, although there were times we wished we were… In fact, she said it so often it became our unofficial Venetian motto.
And even though I don’t technically have the legal rights to open all the portals into the Kiki-in-Venice chapter, I can tell you this:
It was scary. It was wild. It was funny. It was dramatic.
It was a movie.
It was the kind of movie that would make Sex and the City look like a quiet afternoon in the suburbs — and probably leave even Carrie feeling underdressed.
We basically lived in fear.
A few days in, the morning ritual had become collective prayers over coffee or tea.
And suddenly, we had all turned into smokers — heavy smokers.
The thing is, you never know with divas.
And it seemed like the wildest b***hes always found their way to our door.
And let me tell you… There was always someone at the door.
Women from all over the world came and went, getting dressed, getting undressed, changing one look for another, stepping in and out of the little portal we had opened — flipping through different characters.
We were in the City of Masks, after all…
And girls will be girls… We told stories, we shared everything, and we talked — about life, about love, about men, about money, about hardships and success.
Every day felt like a story of its own — the kind that required a whole separate vacation just to recover from. And survival seemed questionable at times…
So the nights, even though I could barely stand… I went walking.
Anywhere…
Everywhere…
Through parks and little streets… went shopping… I stopped by churches to admire the art. Walked across bridges and along the water. I wandered without a destination, letting fate decide where I was going.
I walked for hours.
One night, after three hours of Kiki in Wonderland, I was finally making my way home.
And then, somewhere beside the water, a blond boy smiled at me.
He was cute. I was dressed in all pink — baby pink, in my soft-girl vibes — so I smiled back…
“Hi!”
“Hi.”
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you want to hang out sometime?”
“I’m not from here.”
“When do you leave?”
“Next Sunday.”
“Okay. We still have time. I have my boat. We can hang out tonight. I’ll be free at midnight.”
“Aaah… what time is it now?”
“10:30.”
“Oh, no way. I’m going home.”
He laughed.
“Can I get your number?”
“Yeah. Text me. We can do something one of those days.”
“Okay. I’ll see you.”
… French kiss on the cheek for a French-style goodbye.
Just like that.
Such a classic.
I like classics…
The first night we met, he picked me up in a small boat and took me out to a bigger one.
“How have you been?”
“I am so stressed out. I feel like I need a month just to process all the people, the places, everything that’s happened — all the chaos and the madness. I just want it to be over. I need to chill out from all of it.”
“Well, that’s okay, because we’re going to the ‘No Stress’ boat.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, look.”
And I kid you not, as we pulled up, written on the side of the boat was its name: “No Stress”.
That night, as we told stories and made jokes about Lady Destiny and her impeccable ways of getting you exactly where you’re supposed to be… it all felt almost too perfect…
Somewhere amid the water, the lights, the passing boats, and the laughter, I realized — it had happened again…
Because this was exactly what I needed.
A good smoke, a good laugh, and a boy named Simone with his boat…
A few nights later, we went out again…
The chemistry was through the roof. Things were getting dangerously hot and wet.
But Simone had no raincoat.
I thought he was kidding.
He was not.
So instead, we curled up on some cushions in front of the bar, listening to the water and doing absolutely nothing.
He pulled me close and held me tightly.
It felt so good. Too bad I was too exhausted to move, or even fully be present. While he talked to me, every few minutes I would get flashbacks of all the crazy things Venice had thrown at me…
What always pulled me back was his beautiful voice. It was all so exotic and sexy — the two of us underneath the stars, on a chilly summer night, gently rocking with the waves, feeling each other in silence.
“I wanna f**k you…”
“I want to make you scream at me.”
“Please just be nice…”
I was trying so hard to act reasonably. I liked him…
And then, of course, someone called “CUT”, and our little scene was over.
I was thinking: hallelujah! I was saved! Even though I didn’t want to be saved at all.
He was 27.
27!
A definite no-no… Kiki doesn’t do younger!
And yet, there I was, caught somewhere between wanting to stay and knowing I should go.
I hated it.
And then came the last night.
I had promised him I would text…
And I didn’t.
I said nothing that day.
Because the truth was, I was scared.
So I didn’t see him.
And I was sad.
And Jerry laughed at me for it. Another contradiction I had constructed that made absolutely no sense to her.
But hey…
I made it!
We made it!
We survived Venice!
See you next Sunday at 4, divas!
Love, Kiki
