My last night in Europe was a low key affair. Sue talked me into going out but it was a tuesday night or something like that, so not much going on, even in Barcelona. We met a couple other women, one of which was from Seattle also. We all went out to a absinthe bar and it wasn’t very expensive and I had a couple drinks that tasted wonderful, but I wasn’t in the mood to get too crazy. I just wanted some nice conversation and atmosphere.
The bar was nearly empty which was cool and it was dim and sorta misty or smoky, but nobody was smoking so I don’t know why it was like that. The lighting was very dim and green and the walls were a dark wood and the bartender was a thin beautiful Spanish girl who made our drinks with a smile that was seductive and sassy as if she would go to bed with anyone who asked her. I didn’t ask and neither did Sue or either of the other girls I was with (I don’t recall their names).
We got back to the hostel late and found six Irish guys jugging beer and being rowdy. Sue and one the girl that wasn’t from Seattle went to bed but Seattleites have to stick together, so we stayed up talking and eventually the Irish guys came over to where we were sitting and we all started drinking and laughing and having a wonderful time. At some point one of the Irishmen asked who we both voted for, as it hadn’t been long since Obama had been elected for the first time.
I voted for Obama, and they were happy about that, but my fellow Seattleite had not. All the Irishmen started chanting O-Ba-Ma, O-Ba-Ma. It was wonderful and baffling to me. If the culture of the British Isles and mainland Europe existed in the USA things would be so much different. Most people in Europe couldn’t understand how it even be close. I didn’t either, but it was. I don’t want to get into politics though. They just make me angry.
The next day I left around 2 pm for the airport. I had stayed for six months in Europe and it had been insanely awesome and now I had so much traveling ahead it made me feel queezy.
See, first I went from Barcelona to Frankfurt, then I had a 12 hour layover in the middle of the night. This wouldn’t have been that bad but I had overstayed my tourist Visa in Europe for about 3 months and so I didn’t know what they might do if they noticed and decided that I was in violation of that sanction. I’d heard they had the authority to ban me from coming back to Europe for the next ten years, which would have been a bummer. So instead of finding a nice place to sleep like I should have, I spent 12 restless hours worrying about what was going to happen once I showed them my passport.
When, finally it was about 2 hours until my flight I braved it. There were two stations where german guys would check passports. I was nervous because, yes, I know it’s a stereotype but, germans love rules. There wasn’t a line and I stood there watching the guys at the stations trying to calculate which one would be more likely to let it slide. One guy was bald and clean shaven, almost like he had alopecia, the other guy had a mop of hair and a mustache. That was the guy I chose.