New Year’s Eve was dope. This was my second celebration in Spain. The first one was lame and quite frankly I don’t even remember what I did last year. That was far from the case this year.
I went to dinner at Shamrocks, a popular Irish joint, with a big group of friends and had 9 course meal (I think it was 9 courses). The first three courses were more so appetizers rather than courses. It was a little costly and I don’t think it was really worth it. My salmon was on point though. The company made up for the 48 euros that went down the drain. Conversations about ghosts, football, butt sex, facebook posts, red underwear, and other ish went down.
I had to dip out a little early and sped home to change into something a little more dapper. I don’t know what the hell happened to the time, but an hour to midnight quickly changed to twenty minutes. My friend was waiting for me in the plaza in Rota. All I could think about were those grapes that I had to eat before the clock struck midnight. Good thing I had my red underwear on for good luck (Spanish traditions bruh; get hip).
I parked my car and a raggedy gypsy man held his hand out asking for change for his non-existent services. I apologized and ran like a madman. I vaulted over stairs and followed the loud music until I found myself in the plaza. There was a ton of people looking warm and classy.
“Where are you at?” I texted my friend. I stared upwards at the clock and realized I had a few minutes to spare. She told me she was in the middle right section of the large crowd. I weaved through a bunch of people, but she was nowhere in sight. Next thing you know, everyone’s eating their grapes and I’m standing there grape-less.
Luckily, I found her after that and she whipped out the wine and we clinked our plastic glasses to a new year. Two of my other friends found me and explained how everything was closed in Rota. We agreed to go to Mangos, a club in Puerto de Santa Maria.
When we arrived, the doorman held out ten fingers–ten minutes and the doors will be open. We tried a couple of other clubs down the street but they were closed as well. Of course Mangos wasn’t poppin when we stepped inside since we were the first people there. We took a few shots to kill time and an hour later the trap, sorry I mean the discoteca was jumpin.
Fast forward a couple hours and multiple shots later, I receive a text informing me that Ninos, another club, is the place to be. It takes me a few minutes but gather up my dudes and a couple Spanish girls I’m cool with and we get a cab together. Along the way I realize my phone is missing. No one has it and it’s not on the floor. I tell em I’ll be back in a few. The cab driver takes me back to Mangos. I scour the club for my phone, but I can’t find it. I picture a dim future where I’m temporarily phoneless and my international network of contacts is severely lacking (never get caught lacking). Luckily, this future never came to fruition because I found my phone on the side of the passenger seat in the cab.
I made it back to Ninos with a newfound appreciation for my phone and found my spanish friends waiting outside. One of them needed five euros for the cover charge so I hooked her up. When it was my turn to pay I realized I ran out of euro. I asked to pay with tarjeta but apparently they didn’t take card. I got a little pissed and stood off to the side. A couple of my friends came back outside looking for me. I told one of them to go in the club and grab the cute bartender since she knows me. I’m too exclusive to be paying a cover charge anyway. The bartender came out with a quickness and brought me inside. I felt mad love.
The club wasn’t as poppin as I thought it should be but it was past 4 am and people were trickling out. I had a some more drinks and according to another friend’s observations I was dancing my ass off. I went outside and smoked a cigarette (And no, I never smoke) with some girls. At this point it dawned on me that my american friends had disappeared into the night. I called one of them and he said he was at rotunda which was no help to me. I told him to wait and I’d scoop him up in a cab. I said bye to my spanish friends and went on my way.
Every cab seemed occupied or bent on not picking me up. I was freezing to death, but I eventually found a long line for cabs. I hopped in it and waited for a couple centuries and finally it was my turn to get a cab. I slipped inside and called my friend, but he didn’t pick up. He later told me that he had run away from dogs, jumped some fences, and his clothes were covered in mud. Quite a story, right?
Anyway, the cab driver dropped me up and I stumbled home as the sun rose over the horizon and I welcomed the comfort of my bed and 2015.
Happy new year! Lets get it!