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speaking of good days...

(2)
ephidryn May 17, 2003 21:29 Read 132 times, Dig?
i woke up at 8pm on friday to my phone ringing. it was my french friend who has lot's of names. he's not really french either... i don't think. anyways... i had sent him a text earlier asking what he was gonna do. i was trying to catch up on some of my depression sleep when he called and told me i had to get to the train station in placa catalunya like right away. i had taken two showers within the last 24 hours and i still smelled like shit. i downed some weird yogurt drink after i put about 50g of spirulina in it then i threw on a dirty shirt and the same pants i always wear. cigarettes, phone, lighter, money i was out the door to opencor. opencor is like 7-11 but it's actually an 8-2 and they stop selling booze after 11pm. that's ok though cause there's guys that sell beer in the street. i bought that famous 6 euro bottle of gin, a liter of fanta, and a pack of smokes and headed towards placa catalunya. i wanted to let the yogurt settle before i plowed into the gin and the walk did me good. i remember thinking about how cool i was and how the world sucks and yada yada yada....

so i went to the wrong station and called my friend that promptly corrected me and told me to hurry. 9:30pm... no worries the party doesn't start in spain until 2am. i got there and bought a real ticket for were i was actually going for 2,20 euros. (dumbass) i took the escalator down to the platform and checked the monitor. 15 minutes till then next train to  Mataro. i bought a sprite and made a cocktail then i called my friend to make sure he'd gotten the usb drive working with his novias laptop. no. whatever. i was looking through my phonebook for someone to call or send a message to, anything to kill the boredom, when it rang. my friend again requesting a status report and again reinstilling the need to hurry. the train came and everyone seemed to hurry to it even though the conductor can see the platform and they never leave when someones still trying to get on.

i sat down in one of those foldout seats by the doors. there was two other guys doing the same thing. people stared at me and i stared at them. a hot girl sat down in front of me and i killed the sprite cocktail and pretended to be interested in the blackness outside. all the while the punk rocker kept going to the bathroom. like a lot.

finally... the last stop. Mataro. i got off the train and took a leak. outside the station Sam wasn't there like he said he was gonna be. as it started to rain i remembered a wise voice resounding in my skull... when life gives you lemons make gin con limon. so i sat down across the street from the train station and made a fanta limon and gin. the punkrocker that kept going to the bathroom asked me for a drink... i told him if he could find a cup or something then yeah. he was born in catalunya but his parents are from galicia so he speaks really good castillano. he just wanted some fanta and he said he wouldn't put his dirty punkrocker lips on my pristine commercial beverage.... so i told him whatever and he had a few shots. we were there in the rain talking about stupid shit when he just started puking. punkrockers kick ass. just then a car swerved into the bus stop 20 meters down and flashed it's lights. Sam stuck his head outta the car and yelled at me. out of the rain listening to bad spanish techno and speeding my way to the piso of my not really french friend i was happy.

i asked him where he got the car hoping for some GTA action but he said he borrowed the car cause it's raining. so we parked the car and i took a leak in the ubiquitous spanish bathroom and we walked up some stairs and across the street. we walked into an apartment building and he said to wait for him there... he ran up the stairs and i was thinking... "dude... it doesn't matter how dirty your house is... it's not like i'm a chick or something." he came back and explained that he had to give the keys back to his friend that he borrowed the car from and now we gotta walk a bit to his house. there was people out despite the harsh weather and they were laughing and making fun in the overhangs of the buildings. just as we got to Sams house the rain let up and we went inside.

Sam lives with a guy i know they call Sid. He's from algeria and has never had a sip of alcohol. he smokes though. their other housemate was there too but i can't remember is name. he's from algeria as well, rides a moto, and has to work early saturday morning. we sat in the living room underneath some sacred scroll of allah and killed the bottle of gin while listening to music that was made on a playstation. we went to some clubs that my poor brain has trouble recalling. i remember micheal jackson and lots of beautiful girls dancing on some raised platform and arguing with the bouncers about how we weren't gonna pay if it didn't cost anything. my consciousness fully returned with a plate of food in my lap and i was in Sams living room again. he made me sleep in his bed while he took the couch.

i woke up to daylight and my mobile said it was 10:30. i walked out into the living room and scratched my ass while i was looking out the window. in the plaza below there was like a million people at some sort of farmers market. i paced around a bit and wondered if the bell would wake up Sam if i left and wanted to come back. my fishhead forgot about the wonders of cellphones. after an hour or so he woke up and i decided we should check out the market. with 11,90 euros between the two of us we were going strong. the market was rad. i caught words flying through the air and understood them immediately without translation. i walked down the streets around the plaza looking at each fruit and vegetable repeating the spanish name in my head. i wanted an apple or some bread or something but Sam had a plan. we went to a market he knew of and we got a loaf of fresh baked bread for 36 centimos and headed back towards his house. he directed the way and we stopped short to visit his friend that owns a fruit shop. he talked to him in arabic and i spaced into the ether. my focus returned on possibly the most beautiful creature i have ever been blessed with the sight of. she was dressed in full garb like india or maybe a muslim country. normally i make it a point not to gawk at females on the street but i found myself hopelessly staring at her and when our eyes locked i was surrounded by endless love like a million shining stars.

            ahhhhh

a slap on my shoulder and a "nos vamos!" snapped me back into my hungover reality faster than i would have liked. we walked around Mataro eating bread and apples ending up at the top of some construction project. outside of barcelona can look amazingly like parts of the midwest. the mountains rolled off in the direction opposite the ocean, a freeway cut it's way through the relatively new buildings, warehouses that looked like outlet stores doppled the roadside, and a broken down stone house with a giant stone tower stood tired but strong next to us. Mataro, the place that's not Barcelona but is close. i figured the old building must be abandoned so i started leading us there, apples and all... Sam said he thought there was a dangerous dog there but i figured there was just squatters. he insisted we shouldn't go there and pointed up the hill towards the road. so we went. up the hill and too the road... we walked through a parking lot among the peugots, seats, and other various cars that park well and get good gas mileage. Sam pointed out Sids blue car and i was uninterested. we walked towards the beach and i set my apple core down in a ditch. is it littering if you set it down? what if it's biodegradable? fuck it. i jumped up on the poles that hold the parking sign and got my hands filthy. i ate most of the bread as we sat on a bench in catalunya and watched the world go by.

Sam got a message from Marc, the guy that made the music with the playstation. he explained that we have to go there at 5pm. we sat on the bench both wondering what we were going to do for 5 hours until we had to go meet Marc. Sam, the man with the plan, said we should go wake up Sid and take him up on his offer of coffee. it wasn't too early and i love coffee. so we went. we woke him up and they spoke arabic the whole time. i think when you wake up it's hard to speak another language.

we went to a classic spanish bar, way too much lighting, a pack of seething lesbians, fried stuff in a glass case, and COFFEE. the lesbians aren't normal for spain but their friend worked there so they were just kickin' it with her some saturday morning. the girl had died red hair and her name is begonia like the flower. the guy that worked there had a really bad comb-over and looked like he would rob you just as soon give you some coffee. his name is jordi and he kicks ass. he won the spanish national 9 ball tournament 3 times and also the spanish national 8 ball tournament 3 times. after i downed my coffee i finally mastered the art of taking a crap while standing up. perfect. i can shit anywhere now. we spoke of our plans for the future as the lesbians flocked to the two internet machines that were near us. Sam is not from france. he speaks french, and arabic, and spanish. but he was born in algeria. apparently in spain they are such fucking racist bastards that he feels the need to hide his nationality. with good reason. i've seen the fucking spanish be brutal with south americans and anyone from africa while at the same time giving north americans and europeans foot massages and butterfly kisses and shit. i thought america was bad.  so we're sposed to go to belgium in july with this girl Agathe. in august we're sposed to go to algeria and in february we're sposed to go to the united states. iono how solid any of that is... but i'd love to go to belgium and algeria.... i'm not so sure about the united states.

fuck it. we paid and left. we stood in the street for a second and formulated a plan. saturday, no tenemos que hacer algo, the beach.  we went to Sids car and took off. we  drove past a disco we went to last night and i congratulated myself for remembering what the outside looked like. we drove into an industrial district with lots of warehouses. i started to get a bit concerned cause we were like nowhere on course to the beach. i started having daymares of being kidnapped by two arabic dudes and being held ransom. we parked. right there in the middle of the warehouses. not the beach. not even very much dirt that may be construed as sand. at this point i asked wtf was up. i didn't understand the answer but Sam kept saying "just wait here" and Sid kept saying "Come. Come.". Remembering the lyrics of an inspiring song i followed Sid up the ramp and behind the warehouse all the time thinking about what horrible things they would do to me while i was kidnapped and awaiting ransom. again i asked where we were going but all i could glean was "gym" and Sid just laughed when i said that. (prolly means we're not going to the gym). the sun shone bright on the concrete parking lot that was one story up and it reflected off everything and into my eyes. confused and a bit scared i followed Sid into the second story of the new looking warehouse. as my eyes adjusted to the light i began to see figures in a large room that looked like they were doing martial arts. i was really excited at that point and squinted to see better. Sid took off his shoes and i wondered if i should bow at the door or something. after 10 minutes of explanation and seeing the inside of a Mosque for the first time i finally understood where we were and what was going on. a little off guard having read a lot of stuff recently about the evils of muslim and islam, i followed Sid around as he washed his hands three times, then his mouth three times, then his nose three times, his face three times, and feet three times. i stayed at the entrance to the big room while he walked out into the center and to the other side where there were two lines of people. he took a spot as if he new where to stand and began praising his god. the lack of women glared. there was a lot of bending and stretching that looked like it would benefit anyone. and not drinking alcohol and washing your feet one or 5 times a days is gonna make you popular with some ladies. muslim works. some old dudes made a half ass stab at converting me but i explained i am my own god and they seemed confused. not speaking a language well can work in your favor.

after my Mosque divirginization we were finally at the beach. i asked Sam why he didn't wash his feet and stuff and he said it's cause he drinks and does bad stuff so he isn't really practicing. i am glad to have a fallen muslim friend. it makes me feel like we are the worst of two bad worlds meeting for hedonistic enjoyment of life and all that it has to offer. which we did with fervor. the beach is only so cool when it's bright out, you've just had a religious experience, and you're hungover. we hung out on the rocks for a bit and then decided to return to the flat to rest up for the coming night.

4 o'clock rolled around and Sid made an omelet with french fries and spinach in it. he explained that we shouldn't drink next to the allah scroll and i was embarrassed not to know. Sam expressed remorse but couldn't really be bothered. after eating Sam said we had to go to the guys house that makes music with his playstation. we said our goodbyes to Sid and the guy with the moto and headed towards the train station. we took the bus and as Sam explained how i could get my papers without returning to the US we saw some guy walking his iguana in the park. fuck yeah.

we bought the cheapest ticket that would open the electronic turnstiles and took the train hoping not to meet a ticket man. i've never actually seen one on regional trains and i don't believe they exist. there was this creepy girl with big eyes and dyed dark hair but she didn't cast any spells or make anything bad so i just winked at her when we got off the train.

we kept at it for what seemed like hours. walking up and up and up a little more. i had to piss and it was hot out. i almost got hit by a car in some street that looked like a sidewalk on steroids but finally we arrived at marcs house and Sam rang the bell. he said some stuff in arabic and the door opened. we met Marc and his dog Otto. Otto is cool and Marc gave us lots of coke and money while he showed us how he makes music on the playstation. We got some beer and played some GTA and i was thinking how it was a good day. I took another crap and Marcs catalan brother showed up... i'm not sure what's up with that... but they were speaking catalan. i hate catalan but it was all good cause we were leaving anyway. we took the trash on our way out and met some people at the door to the street. i could tell they were thinking they've never seen us before but hoped we weren't their new neighbors, trash and all.

we grabbed a few more cold liters and went to another friends house. this place was rad. the only thing between it and the med was railroad tracks and the road. it was on the 6th and highest floor. you could see all of mastnou and the beach sprawled down the coast in either direction. barcelona, the sgrada familia, tibidabo were all in view. we determined that you could spit all the way to the beach if you didn't smoke. as we killed four liters on the roof i really understood what a "cheers" was all about. the whole time, in the back of my head, i worried about my drinking habits while surrounded by muslims. i realize that muslim people incite the same fear i have around black people. i'm not afraid of them... i'm afraid i'm going to offend them. after a while i eased into my own skin and some people gave Sam more coke and money.

the sun had set and it was getting too cold for the roof so we went inside and talked of stuff that doesn't matter. i noticed the same scroll of allah in a different form hanging framed on the wall but nobody seemed to mind that we were drinking. some guy yelled for us to turn down the music while he prayed and this is when i learned that you must pray 5 times a day if you are muslim. a bit after that Sam proclaimed, rather abruptly,  that we were leaving and we went to a bar on the beach after buying a couple of bocadillos from some bar where i met the drunkest man ever.

i was sitting there. innocently eating my sandwich and drinking my beer when it happened. the fucking moon peeked it's head over the ocean. it was as red a fresh blood right when it comes out of the body. it was three days from full and practically perfect in everyway. it faded to a pink as it rose and then to yellow and finally white like normal. i almost wet my pants. we realized that if we wanted to go to bcn we had to hop a bus right quick... so we left the beach bar and waited at the bus stop. there was these really ugly dudes macking on these really really really really ugly girls and some guy from ecuador that wanted to talk with me. he was nice and i wanted to talk to him too.

after 45 minutes of ugly ugly trying to get their nasties a bumpin' bumpin' the bus finally came. there were no seats and there was a lot of fucking people. half of them were drunk catalan teenagers. (go team!) when we finally got here we were almost dead after a long day of good fun. our friend Lounes met us in plaza catalunya and we bought a 6 pack from the beer guy and took the metro to my flat. 3am and i was almost dead. Lounes cleaned my whole kitchen cause he has some compulsive disorder and i downloaded 10 megabytes of spam and 40 megs of micheal bolton at the request of my housekeeper. Sam passed out on the couch. Lounes drank two ounces of Johnny Walker red label with some old coke he found in my fridge and was running into walls and falling over. i killed the micheal bolton and played some gabber. Lounes got that glint in his eye that you female readers are prolly familiar with. i decided it would be a good idea to stay awake and write this instead of going to sleep. i love you. g
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Comments from other users:

  • "if you have the secret to getting legal papers, let me in on it, bra. we smoke, we stink, we drink, we fight." - religious icon
  • "cheers G, you should collect all this and store it on pb to put it in a book." - silverstone
  • "times like this can neither be boughten nor forgotten" - orgy
This story was written by ephidryn and has been brought you you by the letters H and Y.
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