Barcelona shit show

This post will be my first ever co-authored event, as a simple night out on the town turned into one of the biggest shit shows to date and I can't fully remember everything for that night. And so I've invited Daniel Felipe Pardo Medina, my savior for the evening and traveling bud to break down the sequence of events.

The suave Colombian turned European

So a little break down before we get into the evening's events, just so you don't get the idea that this is the only interesting thing that has happened in Barcelona.

On Sunday I met up with Daniel at Barcelona El Prat Airport. Grabbed the next Airport bus into town where I had a vague idea of where or hostel was. Whereas my last trip to Europe I was still ovecoming my family's affinity for OCD, this time I am the exact opposite--probably too laid back with finding/planning things. In the end finally Daniel (a man) spoke spanish to ask for directions. Having Daniel here to guide us along and talk with people has been a GODSEND. I highly recommend picking up your own Colombian when you go to a spanish speaking country--very useful.


After a little adventure walking up and down streets we finally checked into or hostel and went out again to explore. Most of Barcelona meets up along the main focal point of the city: La Rambla. La Rambla is beautiful because unlike the rest of the city which can be harsh with the constant buildings and concrete, Las Ramblas is a beautiful strip lined with huge overhanging trees providing a bit of shade from the Spanish heat. Walking down Las Ramblas, we were on the hunt for the Hard Rock Cafe, since that's one of Daniel's "things" when traveling--he collects Hard Rock guitar pins and tastes the local burger. Nice conversation, nice meal, after which we returned back to the room to get ready for a night out.

We had three options, but in the end decided to go with a pub crawl we found on Las Ramblas which would take us to a bar and three clubs right on the beach. I was a little nervous because I hadn't fully drank since New Years, and it had been over a year since I had done so out in public with Harley in England (4 months man....4 months...). I was excited because I had bought that new dress at Free P Star in Paris which perfectly encapsulated Barcelona in my mind so I could wear that out and look cute.

We got to the Irish pub early, the meeting point, where I introduced Daniel to Strongbow cider which is my personal drink of choice. I was shocked and a little embarrassed at how much I started to feel it after just one pint, already nodding along and getting glassy as Daniel's tipsy-nerdy side started to come out as well. Also each took shots and got a mixed drink before it was time to move on. You know how they say women speak 6,000 words a day and men speak only 2,000? Think of the reverse for Daniel and I, and you get a picture of what Barcelona and this night in particular was.

Calm before the storm

Outside of the pub on our way to the first club we met a lovely pair of friends from Liverpool, she a nurse and he the cutest little gay boy you ever did see who worked in a hotel. We got off nicely with them and they became our new drinking/socializing companions for the evening. At the first club we had two glasses of free champagne as a welcome drink and Daniel got us shots of...dun dun dun! Tequila. We started dancing, having a great time. I didn't plan on drinking much more as I was already feeling it and didn't particularly like tequila shots anyways. (Last Tequila experience with Deja for Cinquo de Mayo was also a shit show...I should have learned).

But we did. Took another tequila round soon following as a gift from the English couple, followed by a round of shots from a bottle that I still don't know exactly what it was, but it definitely had skulls on the bottle. We were having a great time, there was a woman there with a mustache and a flamenco dress on that we fell in love with who donned us with red cotton bow ties and mickey mouse ears. Dance dance dance, fun fun fun. Up until this point I remember the basics and it was a pretty nice night out on the town.

Until I went to the bathroom and didn't feel like getting up from the nausea.

At this point: I pass the gauntlet over to Senior Daniel Pardo.
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What Really Happened:
by Daniel Pardo Medina

Walking Sydney to the outside of the bar was the easy part, getting her home was the real challenge. Immediately after I walked her outside she sat down beside the bar and was overwhelmed with nausea. She sat to the side and became helpless due to the awful drink. As she laid there unable to move I began to look around helplessly, hoping to figure out a way to get to the hostel safely.

Things were not looking up as I realized our options were getting slimmer and slimmer as the subway was closed, the bus system was too unfamiliar, and I myself was drunk. To the left of us I noticed a long row of black and yellow cars lined up in front of the clubs. I walked Sydney to a place on top of stairs where she would be in greatest view and sat her down as I ran from taxi to taxi hoping one of them would be able to aid us.

I walked up to each cab and politely asked the cabby if they were able to take us home. Each one I went to gave the same response -hoping to rid themselves of us- following the phrase, "shes too drunk, I do not want her to puke in my car." When I reached the sixth cab I finally became cross with these cab drivers and decided it was time to get serious. I approached the sixth and said, "My friend is in trouble and I need to get her home, can you please help me?" he gave the same response as the rest but I wasn't about to have it anymore. "Look I understand but she is in trouble and I have no other way to get her home. Unless you have another suggestion, I'm going to have no other option but to keep asking." Finally after agreeing that if she were to vomit again, I would pull the cab over and lean her head out the door as to avoid soiling his vehicle.

When I was in the car I had no memory of the street name so when I told the cab I asked him to take us to the metro stop nearest to our hostel, Paral-el. in order to further persuade the cab to take us home I  had agreed to pay him 20 euros even though our trip only cost 8.

Finally arriving at the metro, we only had a ten minute walk before reaching our destination. Easy right? Wrong. With Sydney's condition it might as well have been a mile walk. The moment she stepped out of the cab she was stricken yet again with nausea. I immediately sat her down and tried my hardest to calm her as the world spun around her. I said to her, "Sydney, I'm not going to leave you and everything will be fine." She then responded with a loud, "JUST LEAVE ME TO DIE!" Needless to say, she was of no help to me. When I was finally able to get her to get up and walking around I made it ten feet before being stopped by Spanish police. "Hey is she okay?" asked the Spaniards  "She's fine, I'm taking her home and shes going straight to bed." They asked for my both my military and civilian ID and for our hostel key to verify that I wasn't some random guy trying to get his way with a tourist. After a couple minutes of persuading these guys that we were friends and that I was just trying to get home they finally decided to release me and allow me to go on about my business.

At this point we were five minutes away and i was tired. she was unstable and too nauseated to walk so I threw her arm over my shoulder and helped her walk. Soon after as we started walking we reached a big white base containing a small tree and the moment Sydney laid eyes upon it she dipped her head and began to heave. As she leaned over I grabbed her hair and looked up and coming our way was another couple. This couple seemed to be in the same predicament as we were, with the girl drunk and the male doing everything in his power just to try and get her home. I looked at him and he looked at me and we both shared a look as if to say to each other, "I feel your pain bro, I feel your pain." With two bottles of water and Sydney unable to drink any of it I decided to give him a hand and throw him one of my un-opened bottles. He looked at me with gratitude and continued to lead his woman home. The odd part was when I looked back after he passed us I noticed him shushing everyone that walked by.

When i finally got her home I felt as if i had just walked a marathon, but the endeavor was not over yet. The final challenge of the night was getting her two flights of stairs. When I got her in the bar we were greeted by an array of fellow travelers and roommates. The asked us if she was alright and I simply explained that she needed rest. I managed to get her up the first flight with easy, but the moment we made it up she was greeted by another huge wave of nausea and became best friends with the sink and stool conveniently placed before her. After another round of heaving and begging for the life to end her misery I was finally able to get her up another flight. When she stood up off the bench she ran with all haste up the stairs yelling, "I feel great! i have to get up the stairs before it comes back!" at this point the whole building was aware of our arrival and condition. Constantly being asked if she was fine I fended off as many curious eyes as I could handle as she was yet again struck by nausea and was forced to yet again another convenient sink, but at least we were finally next to the room.

Finally the long trip was over and i was finally able to steady her into the bed and lay her on her side. I had a garbage bag ready in case she decided to hurl again. The moment her head hit the pillow she was out. I sat there and watched her sleep for another hour to make sure she didn't aspirate before I too was unable to hold my drunken head up. All I could think was - it's finally over, shes finally safe.

And that was the story of how I, Daniel Pardo, got Sydney home in one of my longest nights ever experienced.
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Needless to say, that was my introductory experience to Barcelona night life. Literally the craziest night of my life (right after Prague, nothing will beat that Jacob). I'd add more pictures of that night but Daniel broke his camera at La Sagrada Familia the next day so we are SOL for that now. Our time here has been much more tame since, but all-in-all: I'm glad I'm alive. Hasta la vista!