It’s Monday night, and I’m soberly walking on via San Gallo toward the Duomo for an uneventful hour at The Lion’s Fountain. My friends occupy the entire width of the narrow, cobblestone street and plan on continuing their evening at YAB or Bamboo. After a few glasses of cheap wine from the convenience store next door and a shot of tequila or vodka for some, our group semi-succeeds at walking quietly in a straight line past our stern security guard. As I watch my friends ungracefully make their way down the street, not hiding the fact they’re a stage past tipsy, singing, laughing, and talking about classes to last weekend’s trip to Paris to who they hope to see tonight, I wonder how and why I’m here. As we carelessly brush past the tame Florentines, I can’t help but understand why American study abroad students continue to accumulate a negative reputation in this historically significant Italian city.