With my Bulmers in hand, the clock strikes 3AM and I’m wondering how in the hell I’m going to make it to 6AM when the Metro opens back up so I can go home. When did I get so boring? I disappoint myself.
I look around me, disenchanted with Lady Gaga on the radio and the watching the countless Erasmus students do the mating dance. I did not feel like taking part in the tomfoolery. So we did a loop to wake up. I spied a cute boy and parked it next to him. Naturally. Then he left. Naturally. Meghan and I were chatting it up at the back bar when a tall bloke came up and ordered about 12 shots of Patron. Not a common sight in Spain so I was intrigued. What’s your story, sir? Who are these for? He offers two of them to us. His friends come up one by one to get their shots and they were either certifiably insane or having a bachelor party. Either way, we were in.
The group was a good 12 men strong, and they scooped us up along with them like we had been friends for years. O’Connell’s shuts down so we were forced next door. I had a Mahou that I bought on the street and my new friends told me to hide it in my jacket instead of wasting it. I snuck a beer into a bar. Who does that? And as soon as I walked in I took a swig like a fool and a guy comes up and goes “I’ll take that.” Right out of my hand. Sneak Fail.
Anyway, we stay at the bar until the sun rises, then go get MORE beer at a coffee shop at 8:30AM. Wasn’t I just dying to go home 5 hours ago? This is how you know you are in Spain: the coffee shop at 8:30AM was packed full of people just like us, not ready for the night to end. A country like no other, this one.
From there, we move on to a Chino where the boys buy more beer, befriend some Stage 4 Clingons in the street, and move to a plaza to drink. It’s there that I’m sitting, sharing a liter of Mahou with my new friends, and the dodgy scoundrels we picked up pull out cocaine and pass it around. WTF? Here we are at 11AM, sitting on the ground, old ladies passing us on their way to church while these guys do cocaine and we drink our beer. I just laugh at the irony of it all, like an asshole. Thankfully, the bachelor boys do not partake of the hard drugs so I still feel like we maintained some modicum of decency that holy morning.
the moment of truth:
How affectionate these men are with each other! They would frequently kiss each other on the top of the head or simply hug. I was struck by the fact that I never see American males behave in this manner, and that thought made me very sad. There was something so pure and sweet about it everytime I witnessed it. It was such a beautiful glimpse into the best of humanity.