Tales of a drunken ex-pat

First thing's first: being drunk in Spain is pretty much like being drunk in the states. The main difference is instead of thinking things like "Woah, I love my friends, man!" you think things like "Woah, I'm in Spain, man!"

But maybe I should be more precise. Because drinking is not just a way to get drunk. Here, in fact, drinking is part of the very fabric that is la cultura Pamplonica. So I'm just doing as the Romans do, ya dig?

Anyway, I often have the same thoughts when I'm out at a bar:

Man, I am so geeked out on being here. Maybe I'll never leave.
I speak Spanish way better when I'm a little tipsy.
I bet I could entertain everybody just as well as this band.
I just wanna kiss everyone, because they are all so awesome.


It's funny, though, how those thoughts can completely turn themselves around with a little more cerveza:

I speak Spanish way better when I'm sober.
I wish friends from home were here.
I would kiss all of them, because they are all so awesome.
I hate this band.


Sometimes, I even get a little rowdy. I don't start fights or anything, but I start nudging Elliot and saying things like:

You see all these white people?
Dude, you are so handsome.
Man, ain't nobody here who knows how to dance.


Most of my nights out bar-hoppin' end up with me talking to some random dude from Pamplona about Philadelphia:

Philly is the best place for music, man.
New York City isn't at all like Philly.
I'm not really from Philly.


In general, I get emotional when I drink. Whether it's feelin' on top of the world, or lonely as hell, it gets real. Can't wait to share a beer with y'all on the other side. For now, I'll just keep on clinking glasses with the Pamplona folk.

How I miss the American drinks on the table...
This is the impression I give Spaniards as an ambassador to the free world.