domingo, 14 de junio de 2009

Magic & Mayhem

I have finally regained the mental strength to re-write this blog after Blogspot bitched out and had an "error" last time. You don't just have "errors" that erase literary masterpieces like the ones I so graciously post on your website. That's all I'm going to say about THAT.

But yeah, back to the old post.

Last week I finished up the rest of my exams here in Sevilla. I could go on a rant right now about how much Spanish students CHEAT... like, for real: can you NOT study at home? I seriously saw a girl spending 15 minutes prior to the test writing her notes on the desk. I hate the fact that I'm so GD honest, because it took everything in me not to tell on her. Yeah, lame. But, as a wiseman once said, she'll get her comeuppance... But yeah, I finished one exam, turned in an extra credit paper (complete with the largest possible 12 pont font) and ran out throwing papers through the corridors and screaming.

Of course, since school had officially ended, it was time to celebrate. And instead of going to any of the thousands of normal Spanish bars throughout Sevilla, we decided to spend Wednesday night at the place where it all began -- Calle Betis. I'm all about bringing this trip full circle, and literally the first time I went out was to this hell hole of skanks, cheap liquor and, my fave, the creepers. However, despite many other tantilizing offers, we decided we had to do Betis one more time.

We all met up at the Nervion Burger King (another nostalgic moment) and awaited David, our collective Spanish friend, to pick us up in his coche. Sweet, right? Well, except for the fact that he drives like a bat out of hell. I literally screamed, "THIS ISN'T TOKYO DRIFT" as we raced down Ramon y Cajal. It was so scary. Add to his speed a blasting selection of techno music and you have my personal hell. In the car, I remember thinking to myself how weird it is that the "cool" Spanish guys drive little compact cars with rims, gel their hair, and blast shiteous techno music. In the US, those are what we call *guidos.* Come on, Spain.

We finally got to Betis all in one piece and waited for David to park his mini car. In the meantime, we took tons of pictures on the infamous street, trying not to touch anything for fear of contracting STDs. We headed first towards Big Ben, always a solid decision for its 1 euro shots and beers. We were, however, talked into entering Garage Bar (oooh the memories of being talked into a bar), which was basically empty save the mutants at Table 9 from Wedding Singer. We quickly got through with our drinks and went to Big Ben which, by the way, was extremely awkward because it was right next door to Garage Bar, and Garage Bar's bouncer watched us leave their bar to go to the one next door. Ouch.

We finally got to safe ground, aka Big Ben. There weren't many people there, but those that were were champions as we'd soon find out. After a long-lasting games of Sevens (in Spanish and with the keyword of "conyo") we were all just hanging out until we were approached...

"ENGLISH? DO YOU GUYS SPEAK ENGLISH?"

And with that, we all turned around to see the shining face of none other than the sidekick of the Harry Potter films, Rupert Grint, who plays Ron Weasley!

Okay, not really. But this guy, whose name was Sam, looked exactly like Ron. It was crazy. He did, however, lack much of the charm that one would expect when meeting a magical being, let alone Ron Weasley. In short, Sam was an obnoxious, drunk American.

And DAMN did boy like to talk.

I swear, it was like he hadn't spoken to a human being for his 4 weeks in Spain. He did not shut UP. And to make matters worse, he continued repeating himself the entire time! Ugh... here's an example of Sam trying to get us to go to the club Aqua with him:

"What are you guys doing after this?"
"Oh, we don't know yet"
"We're all going to Aqua, you guys should come. It's just up the river"

...5 minutes later...

"So where are you heading after this?"
"We don't know yet"
"A huge group of us is going to Aqua... we got Pennsylvania, Texas, Montana... you should come!"

After 2 repetitions, we all got kind of bitchy the third time he asked about Aqua. I felt it appropriate to drop in some Harry Potter humor as well, hoping that he didn't realize he looked like Ron Weasley.

"So where are you heading after this?"
"WE.DON'T.KNOW"
"You should go to Aqua---"
"--WE KNOW." -Carolyn
"Aqua's supposed to be a really cool bar"-Sam
"Yeah, have you heard of Diagon Alley? They also have cool bars." - Me

I also injected a little HP humor into a conversation I interrupted about beer:

"I like Milwaukee's Best" - Sam
"Ew, that tastes like piss" - Elle
"Watered-down piss" - Sam (as if that's a good argument...)
"...I prefer butter beer" - Me

After what felt like eons talking to this guy, he finally got the hint after we all just started talking amongst ourselves again. I bet you're all shocked to know that we didn't go to Aqua. Later, I realized that Aqua is actually the terrace of Antique, the coolest Spanish bar which just so happens to be WAY outside of Sevilla and therefore not "just up the river." Fail, Sam. You fail.

Thursday night we attempted going out again after Sam basically sucked all of the fun and enjoyment out of our evening with his repeating disease and his non-Ron Weasley ways. This time, David drove us again, but this time to El Centro. And again, he drove like a straight-up idiot. I felt like I was on the Bourne Identity, but without hot and sexy Matt Damon and therefore not happy. We somehow made it alive after I literally bashed my head against the car window and headed to Julio's one last time. Depressing. This has got to be the cutest old man of all time. He told us to come back if we're ever in Sevilla... This kind of set the tone for my depression for the rest of the night. After Julio's we followed David to a bar called Antiguedades with THE WEIRDEST decor of all time. They literally had mummies, random body parts in cages, shrunken heads, and other unnecessary items on every surface of the bar. Combine that with their Gucci 6 euro drinks and I was not a happy camper. We bolted out of there towards Buddha ASAP.

Buddha... what can I even say. There have been SO MANY memories at Buddha. From the first week it kind of became our favorite discoteca in Sevilla. Sure, it's filled with a lot of Americans and every godforesaken man on this Earth, but we love it. And going one last time was only fitting before heading home. Sadly, Buddha was a ghost town when we got there. It was a religious holiday Thursday, so many Spaniards and summer study abroad-ers went to the beach, leaving a few scragglers behind to fill in Buddha. They literally had the entire third floor closed, THAT'S how empty it was. It was so sad. But it didn't keep us from dancing jsut for a little. I can say that I will definitely miss European house music. They play the best jams... it's basically the music they'd play in a gay club in the US, but here, everyone dances to it.

Once on the dance floor, I was under the influence of friends and other substances and decided it would be fun to harass a group of guys we thought were gay. After we saw their dance moves, which included one of them straight-up humping the corner of the wall, we decided it would be funny for me to a) party boy one of them, and b) slap one's ass. Of course, this plan completely backfired. The guy who I party boy'd and then slapped his ass immediately came over and hit on Elle by grabbing and kissing her hand. Awk. I also think it backfired because a creeper in a blue and white polo with a receeding hairline must've seen my moves and WOULD NOT leave me alone all night. He actually came up behind me and touched my waist to try and get me to dance with him. BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. I seriously writhed around like I was being attacked by bees. As if that didn't give him a hint, he continued dancing near me and staying in my peripheral vision at all times. Everywhere I turned, there he was. Now a seasoned veteran, I knew NOT to make eye contact with this ass clown, and it worked. Despite him hovering all night, I didn't really have to deal with him but one time. Oh the things I've learned in Sevilla.

So maybe those two nights weren't exactly how I wanted my going out experiences in Sevilla to end... but honestly, how else would it be appropriate for me to say 'Sayonara' to this place? Betis, Buddha, creepers, club dancing & cheap drinks... that about sums it up.

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