viernes, 16 de enero de 2009

Pound It

So, last night we decided to go out to the most Spanish place in Sevilla, Calle Betis.

That's sarcasm.

Calle Betis is known for being the spot where all the tourists, especially American ones, go while they're in Sevilla. But for us, options are slim right now because Spaniards don't like going out in the cold & a lot of the college students aren't back in town yet. Plus, Thursday nights at Long Island (a VERY Spanish bar) means free Sangria for the ladies.

But, being college students, Angela had a little surprise for me in the form of a cheap bottle of fizzy wine before we left. I decided to open it a few minutes before heading downstairs to meet our neighbor, Elle. Just as I was opening it, I wondered out loud, "What if this thing overflows like champagne?" But, if you know me, I just went ahead and opened it, with Angela screaming "WAIT!" in the background. I'm not kidding you when I say that was THE LOUDEST cork I've ever heard in my life. I have no clue how Mercedes didn't hear us, but luckily, I was wrong about the fizz part.

We were supposed to meet Elle at 11:55, and not having finished the bottle of wine, we stuck it in Angela's purse and headed downstairs. (Sidenote: We could not get the cork back on, and after many "I can't get it in"s and "That's what she said"s, we just decided to go topless). The thing ended up being our canteen for the long, 1 1/2 mile trek to Calle Betis. On the way there, we got about 4 cat calls and decided that we were like Charlie's Angels - a blonde, a brunette and a redhead. Then we stopped along the river to take pictures because, well, it's SO gorgeous down there at night. And by the time we got to the Torre de Oro, the wine was gone and we were feeling good.

First stop, Long Island, where we got our free sangria with only 15 minutes before the offer was up. We quick drank our glasses and got another at 12:59, literally 1 minute before it was no longer free. The bartender gave us a hard time, but he still gave us the sangria. After finishing that, we went out to the streets to find something else fun.

We didn't find anything right away minus a creeper that grabbed Elle by the arm and would NOT let her go with us for some reason. It was beyond creepy. He kept asking her to go get a drink with him, but dude, really? I just told him that was illegal in the US. We did, however, take his coupons for free drinks at one bar to use later. We were afraid he'd be there if we showed up that night.

So, after that creepy moment, we had to find another way to get to our bar of choice, Big Ben. We literally walked in a huge circle to avoid Manuel (the creeper). But before we could get to Big Ben, we were accosted (Unforgivable) by this British guy who basically ushered us into this other bar which I don't even know the name of. When we got inside, there were literally no girls in there... only a lot of short, semi-creepy looking Spanish men who swarmed us when we walked in. Louis, the British guy who made us go in there, was pushing us to take shots because if we did, he would get one free. I'm still nto really sure if he worked there or not, but whatever. We got our 1 Euro shots (the only Euro we would spend the entire night! woo!) and then sat down with Louis and his "homeboys," whose names I don't recall. But I do remember the half French, half Spanish man who knew only offensive things in English, the best being, "Your Mother is my Bitch." I felt it my duty to teach him "POUND IT..." and it got really popular that night. We even double fist pounded while head butting. I think that's pretty serious.

Oh, another high note was being called a c*nt by this British figure, Louis. Imagine a British Cory Matthews - type calling you that. It was in response to me telling him he looked like he liked "fags" (cigarettes). I didn't realize that that word was so popular in London, so I was a little offended at first, but I got over it quickly. I told him I have tough skin because I'm Italian. He then told me Italians are sexy... I really was starting to change my mind about Louis and think he was a genius. Then he told me only Americans read Harry Potter. What a wanker. He did compliment me on my British accent though, so now I'm going to do it more than ever.

At around 2:30 we decided it was time to head back towards Nervion, where we live, because Angela had class at 9:30 and it was a good 30 minute walk. As we were leaving, our French/Spanish friend and this other guy from the bar coming storming out and start fighting. At first, I stood there and watched, but then I heard the word "pistola" (pistol) and the one guy had his arm in his coat like he was about to get out some sort of weapon. Needless to say, us girls started running away to the alcove of this other bar. I think that's when we truly decided it was time to go home. What a crazy way to end a fun and funny night.

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