by Lori Kurtzman

We'll talk about the sights of the Columbus Italian Festival — the sausage selfies, the BONGRNO license plate, the woman in cherry red heels navigating the brick streets — but, first, can we talk about the smell? It doesn't hit you right away. As you make your way to the festival's 4th Street entrance, there's barely a hint of meat or sauce or dough in the air.

At the gate, volunteers collect $5 admission and greet new arrivals with the enthusiasm of a long-lost relative. Everyone is particularly eager to shake the hand of the man in front of you, whose name, you gather, is spelled with an exclamation point.

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Source: http://www.dispatch.com/