After wrestling, I went through the bath cycle, with my uncle having gone ahead of me. I caught up to that certain trio in the Tepidarium. We conversed as we swam, yet I’m embarrassed to say only one of their names stuck with me. It was that of a sixteen-year-old boy, Giton, who was pretending to be a slave. When I got out of the last bath, I saw Trimalchio again. This time, he was being rubbed down by several slaves using the softest towels. I was shocked to see three masseurs drinking Falernian wine, and spilling most of it on the floor. According to Trimalchio, they were drinking his health. I, for one, was offended. You do not pour wine to the ground for mortals.
This was only a taste of what would come.
In the evening, my uncle led me to the home of Trimalchio. On the door read,