One Too Many

When I first arrived in Lisbon only to be completely surrounded by young, loud American accents, I panicked slightly. This whole trip, so far, I had miraculously avoided drunk 19 year olds from the States, but it seemed as if Lisbon was going to be the sad exception. There really is nothing worse than sharing a room with people who have traveled somewhere solely to party. Actually, there is something worse than that: when those people are from your home country and unironically say things like “I didn’t know they (by they does she mean Europeans?) listened to Bob Marley!” really loudly, in public.

Oh, honey.

The first night, my wonderful bunk mates, decided to barge in at 3 am, turn on ALL the lights and spill their mixed drinks on me. I was not amused. The next morning, as I was getting ready, one of those girls (we’ll call her Girl 1) walks into the room at 7 am looking like she just stumbled out of a horror film that took place at the prom.

Her friend (Girl 2) immediately peaks over the bunk bed at her disheveled friend and whispers extremely loudly: “Hiiiii!”

Girl 1 looks up a little scare and waves weakly then tip toes to her bag, probably hoping her friend will just go back to sleep (no such luck…for her. I, on the other hand, am intrigued).

Girl 2, bless her heart, not giving up that easily: “So, how was it?”

Girl 1, looking intently for something in her bag: “Hot…”

Girl 2: “Niiiiice!”

Girl 1, still looking for something hidden deeply inside her bag seems like she wants it to swallow her up: “No, it was literally hot. The window stayed closed the whole time, and he kept wanting to cuddle afterwards. I am really not into cuddling.”

Girl 2 looks like she’s starting to regret initiating this conversation (NONE of seem to realize that I am very much awake and intently listening to this conversation, by the way): “Oh… did you use one of the three?”

Girl 1 gives up on finding whatever was in her suitcase begins changing out of her party clothes: “No…”

Girl 2 sits up straight in the bunk bed and leans over so far I am afraid she might fall out of it: “Did you use anything?!”

Girl 1 stops mid putting on her pajama pants: “No…”

Girl 2, forgetting to whisper-yell, practically screams: “Kelly!”

Kelly just shrugs her shoulders and climbs into her bed. I see this as my chance to escape, grab my things and bolt out of the room before Girl 1 really starts to lecture Kelly on safe-sex practices. The real travesty here is that Kelly felt the need to cuddle with this dude in an extremely humid room (it’s Lisbon in the summer) after most likely mediocre, definitely drunk, unprotected sex.  

I actually ended up coming back to the room that afternoon, and the entire friend group was up at that point getting ready for something. Kelly’s night time escapades were a thing of the past. Some how my age came up and they all seemed to have mini heart attacks, as if being 5 years older than them and traveling by myself was the craziest thing they had ever heard.

“OH MY GOD, you don’t look that old!!!!!” and “Aren’t you scared??????” Not for myself….

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