I realised today that I started telling a story about the two american girls that were staying in our hostel, and didn’t ever post the end. I am going around saying that I want to be a writer, blah blah blah, and I don’t even finish the stories that I start! going to put an end to that, I am.

So – the american girls. when we last saw our heroines they were trying to pry apart their friends, who were throwing punches at each other at 3am in the middle of Las Ramblas, Barcelona. The police showed up, and our girls were afraid they would be arrested for fighting in the street, even though they were valiantly trying to maintain the peace between their two friends. The heat was on, and after the tall girl was done peeing in the street (“she was peeing on her handbag! I didn’t want to pick it up because I was afraid I would get pee on me! did you ever wash your handbag after that?” her friend explained to me..) they made like bananas and split.

The next day their friends were nowhere to be found. Our two friends went to their usual hangouts – the hostel by the beach, the bar on the beach, lying on the beach – and couldn’t find them anywhere. They even looked in the unusual hangouts like the police station, and checked for their friends. One cop said there was a 75% chance they would have been arrested and thrown in prison overnight if they were fighting in the street. 75%! Now they were getting worried. 50euro notes were handed over one after another to pay for phone credit, and texts were sent on the hour, but no word from either of them. What if they had been abducted like that girl who went to aruba with her friends and was never seen again?

I left them with my mobile number and instructions to text me when they found out what had happened. I couldn’t be left without the ending, anything could have happened to them! They could have ended up stranded in a spanish prison, being tortured by the guards and terribly mistreated – their mobile phones could have even been taken away! They could have wandered off in a drunken stupor and gotten lost forever in the winding gothic roads. A crazed lunatic could have found them and taken them to his apartmenent, forcing them to write terrible knock-knock jokes at gunpoint. Anything!

A day later I get a text saying the least likely thing had happened – they made up at 3am in a drunken stupor after our two heroines had run for their own lives, went back to their hostel and slept in the one double bed they were sharing together, then hung out the whole next day together and ignored all our herione’s texts because they were pissed off at being left in the street. Yes, my friends, this is the end to my tale of intrigue and deception, drama queens and piddled handbags.

Filed under:
Uncategorized by michelle