In Barcelona
I’m in Barcelona. Woke up at 5:30am today due to intense jet lag and a dream of being cast in a porn opposite Kathy Griffin. Decided to go for a pleasant early-morning stroll down Barcelona’s famous “La Rambla”—a wide promenade with many shops and things to eat. Turns out that in Barcelona, 5:30am is not “early-morning” for many people. It is “very late-night.” The time of night where people actually sweat wine and prostitutes range the streets in pre-programmed patterns, sucking up money and penises like sexy Roombas.
There were a lot of people from all over the world staggering down La Rambla. The first thing I saw was two Spanish guys shoving a girl. The girl seemed to be enjoying it, which is good because I really didn’t want to beat up any Spaniards this early in the morning. The Spaniards seemed relieved, too, when I sprinted to the other side of the road. They waved to me. “Thank you for sparing us,” I think they said. (My Spanish is not so bueno.)
As I continued to ramble down La Rambla, my nose was filled with a fragrance that reminded me of the time I fell into a bathtub full of wine and then, when I tried to get out, slipped and fell into a pile of dogshit that had been piled next to the tub of wine by a prankster. Amazing how things smell the same wherever you go in the world, I thought as three British men in matching soccer jerseys vomited on my shoes.
I was approached by a 6-foot tall North African prostitute. I brushed her off—she was far too short—but she kept coming back and trying to grab my arm. She said, “Come on, baby. Why not?” I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I just started bawling. “I am cursed,” I told the prostitute. “Everything my penis touches turns to stone. My last girlfriend? She’s in the permanent collection at the Met.” The prostitute left.
At that point, I was beginning to get hungry. I stopped in a well-lit shop and used my rudimentary Spanish to order a coffee and a piece of toast. I asked the shop-keeper, “Could you please over-charge me by 4 Euros?” Apparently my Spanish is better than I thought, because he did just that!
I looked at my watch. What an ugly watch, I thought. Then I looked at the clock on a pharmacy sign. It was time to go back to the hotel. If my grandmother woke up and found I wasn’t lying next to her she would worry herself sick.
