Last Night Out (Take Two)
This blog entry about the events of Friday, July 09, 2004 was originally posted on July 17, 2004.
DAY 265: I woke up not really much hung over. My brain was too busy cursing myself out for being robbed just a couple of hours before. I sucked it up and just spent the morning on my laptop, attending to Blog duties while Juan and Jack were passed out cold all morning.
“Fuck, I’m wasted,” Jack said, finally waking up around one. “I don’t think I’m drinking again.”
“I don’t know how many times I’ve said that before,” I replied.
“What are we doing today?”
“We can walk around… and then go drinking.” I joked. In his extreme hung over state, he told me just the thought of beer was making him sick.
MID-AFTERNOON, Juan left us to go with his friends to the lesser-known bull run in the town of Teurel, just a 90-minute ride up north, leaving Jack and I to wander Valencia before our evening train back to Barcelona. Jack was a zombie as we walked the streets; not even his surefire cure for hangovers, yogurt drinks, was helping. I dragged him through the downtown area, looking for El Corte Inglès, the Macy’s of Spain, where I eventually replaced my wallet, camera and Memory Stick with no problem — other than the fact that I had to part with even more money to acquire them.
Soon we were on the only available train that evening we could get bound for Barcelona. Jack passed out in his chair while I wrote and watched a documentary on the monitors about the Ethiopian monks of Lalibela, where I had experienced just a month and a half before. It was around eleven when we arrived — too early to go to the airport, too late to find a room. Luckily Jack had a hook up in Barcelona, his friend Nicolas who took us out the week before. He gave us directions to his high-rise loft apartment in town, complete with a balcony view of the nighttime streets below (picture above). We could have taken an easy Metro train with no transfers, but Jack’s big luggage was back into the mix and so we took a cab.
It was a welcoming thought to hear that Nicolas was too tired to go out, but he had some houseguests over from Uruguay who wanted to go out — it was Saturday after all.
“[Nicolas] says he doesn’t feel like going out either,” Jack told me, “but I think we should.” Hung over or not, Jack was back. He’d have another last night out, this time in Barcelona, starting off with a bunch of tapas prepared by Nicolas for everyone to snack on before clubbing.
Exhausted, I took a nap for an hour before we head out around two, back to the Port Olympic, the strip mall of bars and clubs, home of the pole dancers. We met up with Nicolas’ friend Jorge and the two Uruguayan girls, Majo and Silvina, and wandered from bar to bar, club to club, nodding our heads and dancing to music of all styles, including American dance. I thought it was wrong when the bouncer of this one club denied admission of a black guy simply (for all that I could see) that he was black — most of the music was performed my black people! No matter, the guy just danced his ass off right outside the club for all to see.
HAVING LEARNED MY LESSON the night before, I stuck to Cokes all night (there was a beach nearby to easily pass out in). Meanwhile, Jack was over his hangover.
“I think it’s beer time.”
The night went on until the break of dawn. Jack had his international flight at nine, meaning he really should be at the airport by seven. It was already passed seven by the time we got back to Nicolas’ apartment because there were no taxis available from the port. Nicolas seemed really relaxed about Jack needing to get to the airport, far away from the city center, while Jack was beginning to really stress out. For the first time in our time together, it was he that was actually more stressed out about rushing over. “You think I’ll make it to the airport in time?”
“You’re cutting it close,” I said.
Jack dashed off in a taxi with his mini-fridge suitcase after a quick goodbye — “Great time in Spain, man. I’ll read all about it on The Global Trip.” The taxi took off, leaving me alone again in Barcelona. I walked down the sidewalk, a lone man on a fairly empty street towards the Metro.
Next entry: The Race to Paris
Previous entry: An Invitation For Trouble
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Comments for “Last Night Out (Take Two)”
It’s seems all us guest stars on the Trinidad Show just make our flights back home by the tick of the second hand…
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 07/16 at 08:04 PM
I’VE REALIZED that reading Jack’s quotes on paper (and on screen) make him sound like a big jerk if you don’t know him—all his quotes make him out to be a loud, obnoxious frat boy. In actuality, he’s actually a really laid back guy; most of his quotes are actually delivered in a deadpan sort of way…
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 07/16 at 08:26 PM
yeah…reall jack is no pig or a dog…he takes care of them!!!
really can a Vet be a jerk? no way!!
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 07/16 at 08:38 PM
Thanx for the kind words mark ... hoowah !!!
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 07/17 at 02:45 AM
Erik - now that you mention it, I can see what you mean. But, I didn’t think that at all at first.
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 07/17 at 07:35 AM
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This blog post is one of over 500 travel dispatches from the trip blog, "The Global Trip 2004: Sixteen Months Around The World (Or Until Money Runs Out, Whichever Comes First)," originally hosted by BootsnAll.com. It chronicled a trip around the world from October 2003 to March 2005, which encompassed travel through thirty-seven countries in North America, South America, Africa, Europe, and Asia. It was this blog that "started it all," where Erik evolved and honed his style of travel blogging — it starts to come into focus around the time he arrives in Africa.
Praised and recommended by USA Today, RickSteves.com, and readers of BootsnAll and Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree, The Global Trip blog was selected by the editors of PC Magazine for the "Top 100 Sites You Didn't Know You Couldn't Live Without" (in the travel category) in 2005.
Next entry:
The Race to Paris
Previous entry:
An Invitation For Trouble
THE GLOBAL TRIP GLOSSARY
Confused at some of the jargon that's developed with this blog and its readers over the years? Here's what they mean:
BFFN: acronym for "Best Friend For Now"; a friend made on the road, who will share travel experiences for the time being, only to part ways and lose touch withThe Big Trip: the original sixteen month around-the-world trip that started it all, spanning 37 countries in 5 continents over 503 days (October 2003–March 2005)
NIZ: acronym for "No Internet Zone"; a place where there is little to no Internet access, thus preventing dispatches from being posted.
SBR: acronym for "Silent Blog Reader"; a person who has regularly followed The Global Trip blog for years without ever commenting or making his/her presence known to the rest of the reading community. (Breaking this silence by commenting is encouraged.)
Stupid o'clock: any time of the early morning that you have to wake up to catch a train, bus, plane, or tour. Usually any time before 6 a.m. is automatically “stupid o’clock.”
The Trinidad Show: a nickname of The Global Trip blog, used particularly by travelers that have been written about, who are self-aware that they have become "characters" in a long-running story — like characters in the Jim Carrey movie, The Truman Show.
WHMMR: acronym for "Western Hemisphere Monday Morning Rush"; an unofficial deadline to get new content up by a Monday morning, in time for readers in the western hemisphere (i.e. the majority North American audience) heading back to their computers.
1981ers: people born after 1981. Originally, this was to designate groups of young backpackers fresh out of school, many of which were loud, boorish and/or annoying. However, time has passed and 1981ers have matured and have been quite pleasant to travel with. The term still refers to young annoying backpackers, regardless of year — I guess you could call them "1991ers" in 2013 — young, entitled millennials on the road these days, essentially.
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