Sunday, November 20, 2011

If You Are My Friend, I Promise to Shank Your Killer While Wearing My Pajamas and No Makeup if Necessary

Let me set the scene: my travel companion and I have just returned to our hostel from watching a terrible tween flick with Spanish subtitles at a local theater. We´re pulling our suitcases out of a locker and preparing to move them to our new room, located at the top of a flight of stairs, when we are approached by two visibly intoxicated gentlemen.

¨You got an iPhone?¨ones slurs.

I´m not really inclined to lend my phone to this guy - who is inexplicably carrying a boom box - so I pretend I don´t.

¨Where you from?¨ he continues.

We politely answer. ¨Guess where I´m from!¨ he says, now situating himself between Blonde Beyonce and myself. ¨Croatia!¨

Well, that´s nice and all, but this guy is now saying, ¨Do you know where that is?!¨ over and over again. Yes, I have a vague idea where that is, but this dude is starting to get on my nerves.

We try to excuse ourselves and head upstairs, but he won´t get out of the way. ¨Which room are you in?! We are upstairs too!¨

This dude is now inches from Blonde Beyonce´s face and insisting that we invite him and his silent buddy over. Umm, fuck no. The more we try to leave, the pushier he gets. ¨C´mon ladies!¨ His silent buddy turns to me and says, ¨My friend is really drunk.¨ No shit, dude.

I´m now actually now trying to drag my suitcase up the stairs, and drunk dude still won´t get out of the way. Finally, I decide to stop being polite. ¨Hey, dude, back the hell off, okay?!¨

But no dice. And now my guide to not being a creepy motherfucker:

  1. I don´t care how drunk you are, if a woman asks you to back the fuck off, you back the fuck off.
  2. If you don´t back the fuck off, I am going to assume you are a rapist. This means anything goes, and I will not hesitate to A) scream very loudly, B) cause you bodily harm or C) destroy your chances with any other women by telling them all you are probably a rapist.

Now my guide to not being a douche if you are the friend of a potentially creepy motherfucker:

  1. Saying ¨my friend is really drunk¨ does not excuse you from your responsibilities as a human being. You are still required to keep your friend from terrifying all the women in the immediate area.
  2. If one of the women your friend is terrifying says, ¨Hey, please tell your friend to get the hell out of our way,¨ do not respond by offering her an alcoholic substance in a coke bottle. You think I´m a fucking moron? Your friend is probably a rapist and you think I´m going to drink unidentifiable liquor out of your plastic bottle?! I´d just be asking to get roofied.

So, anyway, we finally wrestle our way past these guys and head up to our room. We decide to retire for the night after a few rounds of, ¨Holy shit yo, I think that guy was an axe murderer!¨ After calming down, I quickly fall asleep.

Fast forward a few hours.

I wake up and discover that Blonde Beyonce is, for some reason, not in her bunk. I decide I must be dreaming this. I fall back asleep.

I wake up again, and no, Blonde Beyonce is definitely not in her bunk. I even get up and check, because I think maybe she´s hiding under a blanket. Nope.

This is probably a result of once watching the movie Hostel (which I don´t suggest you ever do), but I immediately jump to this conclusion: Blonde Beyonce went to go brush her teeth and was jumped in the hallway by the axe murderer and now her body is buried in a Madrid alley way.

I spring into action. I grab my keycard and leave the room in my pajama pants with no makeup on (evidence of my commitment to this Blonde-Beyonce´s-been-murdered theory). I check all the hallways. I run into a girl I had met the night before and ask, ¨Have you seen Blonde Beyonce?!¨

¨ she missing?¨ I consider explaining my theory, but that might cause unnecessary alarm, and I want to be able to sneak up on said rapist unannounced.

I creep down the stairs, through the kitchen and around the corner, knowing any minute I could run into Jack the Ripper, when suddenly...I see Blonde Beyonce sitting at the computer.


¨Nah dude, you fell asleep and I wasn´t tired.¨



This was an excellent outcome, as I think it might have been difficult to stab a man in the jugular with a key card, which was, at the moment, my only weapon.

But just know…I totally would have tried.

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