Hair of the Dog

We're still in January, and the days are still cold and short. It's not good outdoors weather for the most part. So, tourist towns are still servicing their own residents, quietly awaiting the warm weather and the onslaught of the hordes. There are some places, like Barcelona, that have tourists all year, but the tourists of January are not the same as the tourists of July.

In July and the other summer months it seems that the black sheep of each house travels abroad. Some areas, such as Magaluf in Mallorca, and Lloret del Mar or Barcelona in Catalunya, seem to attract them like flies. At Magaluf there is drunk carousing almost every night. In Catalunya some cities are copying the drinking free-for-all. A working-class neighborhood in Barcelona has gone on to the next level of sick and tired with all the tourists that rent cheap apartments and travel there just to get drunk and act like uncivilized toddlers. All-night parties that won't let the neighbors rest, and people who think that because they're not at home they can do anything, even if it contravenes civility, such as going down to the corner supermarket stark naked to buy more beer. Barcelona is a liberal city, where live and let live generally rules. But not to the point of considering normal a group of men or women walking down the sidewalk wearing only their skin.

Some party-goers also travel out of season. But because their party date is set by convention. Some Europeans are choosing Barcelona for stag parties. With all that entails. Just last week a groom got a party he won't forget. Especially not if his bride finds out. An Irishman and his friends, all dressed up as ballerinas, tutus included, were partying at a bar. The reason for the costumes was never mentioned in the article by TheLocal.es that I found, but I'm sure it must be interesting. At some point the groom had drunk enough, and retired to the restroom to take a nod. The nod turned into deep sleep. His friends took the party to another bar when the one they were in decided to follow the law and obey closing time. The friends of the groom were none too lucid themselves, and never noticed that the object of the party was missing. Until the last bar closed and they got some cold air on the walk back to the hotel. Then they noticed the lack of a groom and backtracked through the watering holes they had visited. When they got to one of them, after knocking on the shutters, they heard a familiar voice. Since they couldn't get in touch with the owner to come down and amicably open the door, they decided to call the police and explained the situation. The police arrived and called the fire brigade, who let out a sleepy, tutu-clad, groom. Tutus and all, the stag ballerinas finally made it back to the hotel with everyone accounted for. 

Originally posted on Twitter by @JuanCanoSUR

Generally, escapades like that tend to happen in the summer. Like in Málaga last August, when a drunk British man decided to climb one of the arches of the Puente de los Alemanes. For some reason known only to him and the spirits residing in him at that time, he decided to stretch out and take a snooze. At two in the morning a patrol car saw him, and called the fire brigade to bring him down safely. Upon reaching solid ground, and finding that the man was not in complete control of anything, they put him in jail for the rest of the night, charging him with disturbing the public order. 

I feel the pain of areas in the Unites States, the Caribbean, and Bermuda where college students tended to congregate on spring break when I was a teenager. My own senior trip to Bermuda was not exactly staid and sedate, though I didn't personally commune over-closely with the spirits of J&B, Ballentine's, or the Beefeater, like some of my friends did. I don't know now, but back then I'm sure the locals were going beyond insane trying to make sure hordes of college kids didn't destroy everything in their path and that none of them died in freak accidents. Different times, different people, same problems.