Lo veo - pero no lo creo!
Yesterday started off being the saddest day ever.
We woke up late - again. It was cold with the saddest, drizzliest, most England-type rain I've ever seen. We were all broke and though we tried every single ATM within a 40-mile radius all snottily informed us that they could not process that transaction at this moment. (Becca promptly convinced herself that Stupid Arnaldo has already stolen our identities, however I wasn't too worried on that point - even if he WAS planning on stealing our identities there's no way Bermuda banks move that fast, it'll be two months at least before I can't access my bank account).
We went to the post office and were horrified at how much it cost us to send 17 postcards to friends and family, scraping in our wallets for every last cent (now we were REALLY broke). It was still raining. Every time we crossed a street we had to leap ballerina-style across rivers of black water rushing through the gutters. (Clearly we all three missed at least once, soaking our jeans and shoes.) We piled hexes on Arnaldo's head, convinced that he was the root of all our bad karma. A curse on both your houses Arnaldo, I thought furiously. I'm sure he only has one house but quoting Shakespeare always makes me feel better, even when it's out of context. Becca's MP3 player broke and my iPod ran out of power. IslandGirl had lost her license. We didn't even have enough change for the bus. I was half a step behind both of them (the Caboose lives on) when they stepped off the curb and a car hurtling around the corner at mach 3 missed them both by about half an inch. Please don't die, I told them, and we all laughed hysterically and clutched at each other.
And our big plan for the day had been to visit the cemetary.
Clearly we decided instead to just get drunk. Then we realised we couldn't even afford to do that.
Becca took a sad picture of me standing in a monsoon on the corner of Santa Fe and Virrey del Pino. My hideous gold umbrella was broken (it was brand new, btw) and as all 13 million other people in BA were sheltering under buildings at the moment, I was entirely alone on the corner. I put my best Eeyore face on for it. Saddest picture ever.
Then, a trickle of luck. A random gas station allowed me to take out a ridiculously huge chunk of money. I let out a shout of triumph, much to the alarm of the four greasy-haired men hanging out in the gas station with us.
In a sudden stroke of brilliance we realised we could kill two birds with one stone by returning to the bar where Becca and IslandGirl were when she lost her license - we could get the license back and get wasted. We're so efficient, we told each other proudly. Look at how efficient we are.
It was 4pm when we reached the bar (Jackie O, with, naturally, tributes to Jackie everywhere). They were closed but a girl there (who took one look at us and started speaking in English) got the license anyway.
We moved to a bar down the street and celebrated. The celebration turned into an odyssey through that neighbourhood (which we were informed is busy, but not cool, even though we thought it was pretty cool). Yes, we drunk dialed some people (who had some nerve not to be waiting by their cellphones in case we called, by the way). We finally sat down to dinner, back in Jackie O's, at around 10 (early for BA) after eating lunch at 5 and a nice little American snack at about 9.30. We hit the heladeria right on time at 11.30 and were in bed watching Scrubs by midnight. We were exhausted from giggling for eight hours straight.
I love it when sad days turned in to the best random days ever.
We woke up late - again. It was cold with the saddest, drizzliest, most England-type rain I've ever seen. We were all broke and though we tried every single ATM within a 40-mile radius all snottily informed us that they could not process that transaction at this moment. (Becca promptly convinced herself that Stupid Arnaldo has already stolen our identities, however I wasn't too worried on that point - even if he WAS planning on stealing our identities there's no way Bermuda banks move that fast, it'll be two months at least before I can't access my bank account).
We went to the post office and were horrified at how much it cost us to send 17 postcards to friends and family, scraping in our wallets for every last cent (now we were REALLY broke). It was still raining. Every time we crossed a street we had to leap ballerina-style across rivers of black water rushing through the gutters. (Clearly we all three missed at least once, soaking our jeans and shoes.) We piled hexes on Arnaldo's head, convinced that he was the root of all our bad karma. A curse on both your houses Arnaldo, I thought furiously. I'm sure he only has one house but quoting Shakespeare always makes me feel better, even when it's out of context. Becca's MP3 player broke and my iPod ran out of power. IslandGirl had lost her license. We didn't even have enough change for the bus. I was half a step behind both of them (the Caboose lives on) when they stepped off the curb and a car hurtling around the corner at mach 3 missed them both by about half an inch. Please don't die, I told them, and we all laughed hysterically and clutched at each other.
And our big plan for the day had been to visit the cemetary.
Clearly we decided instead to just get drunk. Then we realised we couldn't even afford to do that.
Becca took a sad picture of me standing in a monsoon on the corner of Santa Fe and Virrey del Pino. My hideous gold umbrella was broken (it was brand new, btw) and as all 13 million other people in BA were sheltering under buildings at the moment, I was entirely alone on the corner. I put my best Eeyore face on for it. Saddest picture ever.
Then, a trickle of luck. A random gas station allowed me to take out a ridiculously huge chunk of money. I let out a shout of triumph, much to the alarm of the four greasy-haired men hanging out in the gas station with us.
In a sudden stroke of brilliance we realised we could kill two birds with one stone by returning to the bar where Becca and IslandGirl were when she lost her license - we could get the license back and get wasted. We're so efficient, we told each other proudly. Look at how efficient we are.
It was 4pm when we reached the bar (Jackie O, with, naturally, tributes to Jackie everywhere). They were closed but a girl there (who took one look at us and started speaking in English) got the license anyway.
We moved to a bar down the street and celebrated. The celebration turned into an odyssey through that neighbourhood (which we were informed is busy, but not cool, even though we thought it was pretty cool). Yes, we drunk dialed some people (who had some nerve not to be waiting by their cellphones in case we called, by the way). We finally sat down to dinner, back in Jackie O's, at around 10 (early for BA) after eating lunch at 5 and a nice little American snack at about 9.30. We hit the heladeria right on time at 11.30 and were in bed watching Scrubs by midnight. We were exhausted from giggling for eight hours straight.
I love it when sad days turned in to the best random days ever.
posted by SarahT at 12:00 pm
2 Comments:
hey sawa!!!
i already put a comment on your blog thing, but then i had to create my own blog (www.tittertonabroad.blog.com hehehe!!) but anyways i just wanted to tell you that i love you tons, and that you should write a book damnit!!! i love you so much and i miss you more! tell spaniard the same. cant wait to see you!!
muah!
kt
Katemeister! I'm so excited that you've started one too! I'm going to check your out right away - and I love you very much too! Now we just have to get mom and dad and jason to all start one and we'd be SET
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