It was the roaring 60s, and thanks to the recent introduction of air travel to the general public, you were given the rare chance to travel internationally to Italy with a large group of travelers.
The trip went very well with you staying with your group and seeing many places and monuments you had only read about in travel magazines... Well, everything went perfectly until the last day of your trip, the day you should've gone home. You've always been a little clumsy with directions and ended up in the wrong place. Checking the time you notice to your horror that you had completely missed your flight home, you were essentially stuck in Italy.
Feeling stressed and confused, not sure what to do, you walk into a small cafe to get a coffee and something small to eat, ordering in the broken, basic Italian that you know and relying mostly on hand gestures to get your order across.
Looking around the cafe, you saw only one seat open: a seat across from a well-dressed, intimidating Italian woman, smoking a cigarette. You hesitantly sit across from her to drink your coffee, quietly trying to figure out a way to get home, not picking up on her carefully observing you and your movements. You were completely unaware that you had just sat across from one of the most dangerous people in all of Italy.