Previously: Jionni was an abusive a-hole, but Snooki continued to love him and anticipate his arrival in Florence. But first! Snooki hit a police car!
We return to the scene of the crime. The boys are desperately trying to make their way through traffic as Snooki freaks out about the prospect of riding in the back of a police car again. And she doesn’t even have the benefit of being bombed off her face this time. Unfortunately, the guys get there seconds after Snooki is carted away and see the car being towed. They worry what Snooki’s possible arrest will mean for their own fates in Italy and fear they might be deported. They head to the police station and wait for several hours while the requisite paperwork is filled out. By the time they leave, Meatballs in tow, Snooki seems to have pulled herself together. She basically got with uno schiaffo sul polso (slap on the wrist) and is no longer allowed to drive in Italy again — not that she’d want to.
As they head back home, Deena declares she needs a cocktail. You’d think she’d realize that kind of thinking can cause its on collision — head-on (or should I say face-on? tongue-on?). She and Snooki fill Sammi in on what happened, then Snooki calls Jionni. She tells him what happened, and his first response is not, “Oh my God! Are you okay?” It’s “Were you drunk?” He does eventually ask if she’s okay, but frankly the whole conversation is a non-event. It’s barely a beat before he gets back to talking about his impending trip over. Specifically: Roger won’t be able to make it after all. Snooki gets off the phone and tells JWOWW what’s going on, and JWOWW is super-upset. She gives Roger a tearful call. He confirms Jionni’s news, and JWOWW breaks down. There’s nothing much to say, so they hang up quickly. Deena and Sammi offer to take her out to cheer her up, though Snooki wants to stay home since she’s still shaken up from the accident.
While the girls head out together, the fellows have a guys’ night out. Says The Situation, “MVP plus Ronnie is MR. VP.” More like MR. F. They head to Space Electronic, where I totally went when I was a 16-year-old on a Latin school trip. Let me tell you, it is an international douchebag cesspool. In other words, the guys fit right in. To wit, Sitch explains, “I have seen that Club Space [yes, he calls it “Club Space”] had such a good ratio of hot dog buns to hot dogs [yes, hot dog buns], that I am determined to get it in tonight.”