Challenge Accepted. Challenge Conquered...Maybe

With us only spending two months in Italy, my passion for learning Italian is not as strong as, say, if we were to move here long term. But, at the same time, I do feel it is important to make some sort of effort to learn key words and use them when I can. I will not be enrolling in any language school, but at the same time I am not going to be the American who just expects everyone else to speak English. Not that I don’t use English words, but my expectations for others to understand are very low. It is used more as a last ditch attempt to communicate should I not know the Italian word in hopes it may be one of the words the person I am speaking with knows which will bring us to a mutual understanding. 
I decided to take on a personal challenge this morning. We are finding that most places from restaurants to tiny bars recommend/require reservations. We are frequently asked if we have them when we ask for a seat and sometimes are turned away when we don’t. I found a restaurant I want to try and figured we need to make a reservation. I could have taken the route to make the reservation through the website, but I decided one better. We live closeby, so I opted to walk over and make the reservation in person, leaving my safety crutch outside on the street to wait for me.
Standing outside the door I started by learning the phrase “I need to make a reservation” the rest, I decided to wing it. In the ten foot walk from the door to the bar I completely forget the “I need to make” portion of the phrase and am left with only the word for reservation. The woman looks up and I say “prenotazione” and as it is coming out of my mouth, I realize she is going to want to know if I am arriving for a reservation or if I want to make a reservation. She starts speaking and I just know that I am already in trouble. I blurt out “domenica” (Sunday) in hopes she understands I am not here to eat now. “OK, personnes?” She says slowing her speech down. Being in the tourist area, I get the feeling she is being patient with my obvious struggles- and bless her for it. “Due” I say, holding up my two fingers so there is no question about the number of our party. She asks in English “night or...?” struggling to find the word for lunchtime...but, I know where she is going. Not knowing what time they open for dinner I hold up four fingers. Her eyes get big as she shakes her head vigorously. I take that to mean they are not open at four. I don’t know how to say “what time do you open?” I point to my watch and charade opening doors. She holds up eight fingers and says “otto” that I know is 8. I give her the thumbs up that we will be here at 8 o’clock. She finishes the booking with my name and asks me for my phone number. Hmmm, I actually have no idea how to find my phone number- what buttons on my phone will tell me what the number on this device is? I fumble a little and give her the “give me one minute” gesture. I go back to the street and ask El how to find my phone number. She is not positive right off the bat, but is able to access a recent call I made to her to see what the number was that contacted her. I bring her phone back inside and hand it to the woman who copies the info down. She confirms the info and I believe we have a mutual understanding. When the two of us show up Sunday night at 8 o’clock will be the real test of whether there was a meeting of the minds. 
As I walk out, I chuckle a little bit...can you imagine if she needs to use my phone number for anything? I can see how that conversation is going to go...ring, ring...”El, it’s for you!”