BCN: Saturday Night in Style

Pretty Boy Swede and Texicana left to get a room together, and I repeated the process of the previous night: showered, dressed, and went to the common area to wait for the club promoter. The plan was for the 3 of us to meet in the common area before it was time to leave for the club.

There was a group of 6 Russian guys, the Mafia, drinking in the common area. I had become friends with the leader of the Mafia: a goofy, outgoing guy who spoke the most English, wore wide, American Apparel-style v-necks, and had a distinct porno mustache. Mafia Head was always happy to see me, and I joined the group to push back some vodka.

Hmmm, there are less girls out here tonight, I thought as I scanned the room. And the club promoter was no where to be found. They usually show up around 9pm to start pushing the product. Maybe she had the night off. A Saturday night. All I could do was wait and hope.

There were a couple of Hungarians there with their dad. A traveling, partying family. Except the dad would duck out for bed soon. They also befriended me, and told me how they all cook, and that the dad owned a restaurant.

“You come to Hungary, and stay with me. No charge. I take you to clubs and restaurants. Anytime. Come. Stay,” the dad told me.

“Oh really? That’s awesome. Thanks man!” I replied. Watch your bung hole, Rook. I can never be too careful.

Just like last night, the hostel kicked us out of the common area. We had to step outside through the back door. As we walked out, I saw a cute dark-haired girl sitting on the step, smoking. “What’s up,” I said, as I continued walking with everyone else towards the front of the building. I could feel myself getting drunker with each step.

“Hey!” she said, after a couple seconds of delay. I knew it was an invitation.

She told me she was from France, partying like everyone else. Her English wasn’t very strong, so I used as many simple words as I could. That cute face, and the smile. Finally, a euro chick that’s attractive.

Earlier that day, a group of German girls checked in the hostel. They had the typical European features, but were not cute. At all. Even though they were thin, they were pale, pasty, and had awkward bodies. One girl had her upper back covered in acne. I started making mental comparisons between the euro girls and Colombian girls. Perhaps I had made the wrong choice. Europe was not looking good. Two weeks started to seem like an eternity.

Frenchy was a change of pace. I made a push for her to join me out front, but she said she had to wait there for her friends to come scoop her. She told me her name and room number, and I told her I’d stop by to see her the next day.

It was getting late, and things weren’t looking good out front. No PBS or Texicana. No club promoter. And no cute girls. The Mafia and the Hungarians immediately came to me, asking what I was going to do.

Mafia Head made a push for me to join them. “We are going into the city! Come with us, it’s going to be great.”

“Alright. Where are you guys going? A club? Bars?”

“We are just going to walk up and down the streets. If we see a club, maybe we go in, maybe not.”

“Uhhhh…”

I asked the Hungarians where they were headed. They said a club that I had heard of, so I joined them.

The walk was about a half mile, and the 2 staggered the whole time. When we finally made it to the club zone, they gave me the rundown.

“We aren’t paying to get in,” one of them said, as we headed to the side of the building. A 4 foot fence separated us from the tables and chairs of the outside lounge. “I think this is a good spot to jump over. I don’t see anyone. You think this will work?”

“Wait, whaaa?” I asked, as I saw a club worker exit out the side door. “No way I’m jumping the fence. Let’s just go to the front and see how much it costs.”

20 Euros. Hell no. One of the brothers, the most drunk, cut the line and headed inside to talk to the girl at the podium, who took the cover fee. A huge sumo bouncer followed him, grabbed him, and started shoving him out. He put up a fight. Words, not fists. But it didn’t work. The bouncer pushed him out hard, nearly on the ground.

“That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m out!” I was upset that these 2 thought it was that simple. Worse, I didn’t want to be seen with them. Me, hanging out with drunks who were getting thrown out before they even got in. Not happening.

They tried to convince me not to go back to the hostel, but nothing would stop me. It was almost 3am, and pretty much every place charged 20 Euros. I picked up my pace and left them behind.

There was one last place I could try: a bar right next to the hostel. I went in and grabbed a drink, but it was slim pickings. People were already coupled up and leaving. This night was over.
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The next morning I checked out of the hostel. I had tried to reserve my bed for a few more days, but there was nothing available till the following Wednesday. I wasn’t looking forward to leaving, but that wasn’t my main problem. I couldn’t remember Frenchy’s name or what room she stayed in.

The clerk gave me directions to another hostel in the centro district, and reserved a room for me. While doing this, PBS joined me at the front desk.

“I’m sorry about last night bro. We got a room together and stayed in.”

“No problem man, I understand. Texicana was nice. I would have done the same thing too.”

“Man, we smashed all night. But I feel bad, I wanted us all to hang out last night.”

“It’s all good,” I told him. We made plans to party again that night, and I grabbed my things and headed for the subway.