If You Want to Keep Your High Opinions of Me, You Might Not Want to Read This Post

So sorry about how long it has been since I posted on this wonderful little blog of mine!  Since I left my cozy little home in Toulouse for the great big world of Spain I have felt like I had no time, and even though I had some time to write and post between the spotty internet access and the large amounts of things that I have had to do and places I’ve had to explore have made my time seem to disappear. 

Story time!

SO, I don’t know if you knew this, but people in Barcelona celebrate Halloween as much (if not more) than people in the US do.  I was lucky (or unlucky) enough to experience this phenomenon. 

Apparently the way that everyone over the age of ten celebrates Halloween is get ablsolutely drunk as a skunk.  Just so so so drunk.  Who knew?  I am not really one who gets drunk very often, as those who know me already know and understand, but this Halloween I guess I dressed up as someone completely unlike me. 

There were a group of us from the Hipstel (yes, it is a hipster Hostel) all going from one club to another that night.  It was this nice hippy girl Anne, a sweet girl named Natalie, the taller Colombian gentleman, the shorter Colombian gentleman, and me.  No, I don’t know the two gents’ names.  The two Colombians didn’t dress up at all, but Natalie blacked out one of her teeth and was really all dressed up.  Anne and I just put on as many different crazy clothes as we had with us, which didn’t really act as costumes but certainly made me feel like a different person.  Yes mom, I wore the neon yellow lace top. And yes I will have a group photo at some point when I get a hold of Anne for it.  I also wore a pair of light up devil’s horns that the Hipstel gave me. 

We started at a club called Dusk that was a mix between an Irish pub and a gothic night club.  Very interesting combo.  I danced a little there and Hipstel gave us all a free glass of champagne , which was cool. 

The next place we went was just a traditional Irish bar, which “B” the nice woman from Hipstel was kind enough to tell the two Colombian gents that there were really cheap tequila shots at this bar.  I had not ever done tequila shots, and actually had never had tequila when not in margarita form, but that night I got four free tequila shots.   Let me tell you, the rest of the night is much more dizzy than the beginning of the night.  Normally I hold ALL of my rhythm in my neck and head, but apparently when I get three to four shots in me I start using my hips more…who knew??

The last club we went to had a name, I’m sure of it.  I’m really positive it had a name.  I couldn’t, for the life of me, tell you what that name is.  I also couldn't tell you how we got there other than we all held hands and went in a “choo choo train” yes I believe that one of us in our group described it like that, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was me.  The last club was loud and had a lot of people all dancing in the center of it and had so very many strobe lights and all of the songs sounded the same.  That’s about all I got on that club. 

If it weren't for shorter Colombian gentleman I would not have made it back to the hostel…I didn’t know where in the city I was and even if I did walking took me much more concentration than I had.  We had a long loud conversation about how Judaism is awesome in not for everything else, at least for the food and I think that just from me describing it he wanted to convert…I’m kind of awesome like that, and we were both waaaaaay out of it. 

Then, on our way back to Hipstel, some other crazy drunk female walked up to us and took the light up devil’s horns off of my head, and I was so out of it I just kind of stared after her saying “she took my horns” and shorter Colombian gent said “it’s ok, they weren’t yours anyway” and I said “you’re right” and kept walking.  It was interesting. 

I know that that isn’t a story that most people want to be reading about, but it was one of the more harrowing advetures that I had since leaving Paris and Toulouse.  It certainly beats the stories about having a stomach bug/food poisoning in Madrid and taking two busses across Spain and not sleeping or eating for two days and sleeping in a bus station in Barcelona…this one is much more happy! 

Besides, happy stories are boring stories!  If it’s just me having a good time there’s nothing interesting about it other than the locale.  So there!