Barcelona Butt Bumping
Being a total jack ass spaz moron, I clearly make a fool out of myself on a daily basis here- to Americans and Spanish people. It’s something I got used to years ago. My life is full of mortifying moments, oftentimes the keynotes of this blog, however experiencing them abroad is a bit more horrifying. Up until now they have been filled with the inability to communicate with cab drivers, assuming a vodka Red Bull is two Euros instead of 10 (we’re definitely not in College Park anymore), and making three trips back to the Paki convenience store within an hour to restock on wine and the best popcorn man has ever created while the same cashier is there. (No class and definitely no shame.) However, today took the cake for the worst, most mortifying experience that has every happened to me in Barcelona. No. I’ll take that Barcelona and top it with…my life. And that’s including getting a nosebleed in the tanning bed last year in prepping for spring break. (Already starting the GTL minus the L regime for spring break this year. Spring break in Lagos? I could definitely fuck with that. Time to up the G and the T.)
So my friends, Kacy and Spinner, and I went to get breakfast at a place that allegedly had over 50 omelets (in reality there were like 14) to get egg whites for the first time in 3 weeks, but guess what…no egg whites. So I’m trying to explain to this non-English speaking waiter what a fucking egg white is (“Just the whites.” “Whites?” “No yolk.” “What is yolk.” “No yellow.” “Yellow?” “DO YOU KNOW ANY FUCKING ENGLISH?!?!”) All this is going down around 2 pm, the most crowded time at any restaurant here, and this family is sitting next to us consisting of a grandpa, an older couple, and their HOT ASS SPANISH SON, probably in his late 20s. So this hottie hottie hottie hottie OMG HOTTIE leans over and says to me, “What are you trying to order?” in perfect English. (Needless to say, I was in love at first sight and hearing of his English. Nothing hotter than a hot Spanish man who I actually can talk to.) I turned bright red and said, ever so coyly, and by that I mean I turned bright red… “egg whites.” Cute right? This was only to have him respond that they don’t make egg whites in Spain. No shit Sherlock. Then he told me to order a hambuger. I laughed as if to say, ‘I’m just not in the mood,’ but in reality was thinking, ‘Wouldn’t you like to know the last time I ate a hamburger? I’m going to go with Fourth of July 2002.’ Burgers are so not Lagos. I was distracted the entire meal from that point on.
We made random small talk with the family throughout the meal, but mostly it was just me and Spinner laughing heinously loud to get his attention and Kacy being completely silent. (Pretty sure Kacy got it right, because people don’t laugh in public here. It’s a very unhappy country. Or we are just insanely obnoxious. Probably the latter. ) Things started to get a little awkward when the grandpa did order a hamburger and Spinner stared it down and said to us, forgetting they were an English speaking family, “Holy shit, I want that burger.” Obviously, the grandpa heard and, get this, offered her a bite. I kid you not. He said “Do you want to try it?” And when she said no, he insisted and said “Don’t be shy.” Shit started to get awkward.
When we finished before they even got their food (apparently Americans eat at a disgustingly fast pace aka the three of us could be competitive eaters if we really wanted to be), we had to leave to hit some sights. The tables being extremely close, I had to make a decision about what side to exit on. I decided I thought there was more room on their side so I went with that direction. Then there was the whole butt or front debate. I always go with butt. Looking someone in the eye while manhandling past them is way more embarrassing then grinding up on them. So I said goodbye, and squeeze through the tables, butt to my new friends and I…wow I’m panicking of embarrassment just thinking about it now… knock the hottie hottie hottie’s drink over. With my butt. Fuck hamburgers not being Lagos. Food is not Lagos.
Kacy and Spinner were just staring at me, offering no moral support. I turned around, almost started to cry, and grad the hottie’s shoulder and basically scream in his face “OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY” and he looks up at me with a look of “1. You little bitch you just spilled my afternoon beer, and 2. Get your filthy paws off my silky draws aka get the fuck off my shoulder.” WHY WOULD I GRAB HIS SHOULDER?! It was literally so mortifying. Clearly I was just trying to touch his shoulder. (Never washing my left hand again.)
And this whole time I was planning on going to the bathroom before we went on our sight seeing activities for the day. Being so embarrassed from this whole debacle, I just shoved my friends out the door and ran for the hills. And ruined my whole trip to Sagrada Familia because I had to pee so badly. No bathroom in Gaudi’s holy church. My experience was more ruined by the fact that I shit the bed with the hottie hottie hottie sitting next to me though. But in reality, did I honestly have a chance in dating a beautiful, friendly, bi-lingual, Spanish 28 year old? Most likely not. I should probably work on a moderately attractive, semi-nice, fairly articulate, Jewish college boy first. Major downgrade. Like WTF?!
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