It’s 2:30 a.m and I’m on my way home. In any other city this would mean the end of a big night. In Barcelona it means, I’m still
mostly sober and I left the party early.
Three young American men are walking ahead of me and talking. Loudly.
Boy A: Look! Let’s just go to a club. And if we find some drugs near the club we DO THEM. Okay?
Boy B: Why don’t we go with my journalist friend?
Boy C: Where?
Boy B: She was going to meet some friends in Placa Reial and do drugs.
Boy C: What? Why didn’t we go with her?
Boy B: I don’t know.
Boy A: Dude she didn’t want us to come.
Boy B: No, no, she invited us. She did.
Boy A: She never sat with us in the bar.
Boy B: She was smoking outside okay.
Boy A: Like all the time dude! She did not want to be with you.
Boy B (in a subdued voice): I don’t think she was avoiding us….
Boy A: She was NOT IN TO YOU. You have to learn to read the signs, I’m telling you. Let’s just go to the club and FIND SOME DRUGS OKAY?
Ah youth! So what are the likely outcomes of their night? In ascending order of cost and danger, I think they are:
- If extremely lucky: They don’t find anyone selling drugs outside the club. Go inside, and are ripped-off buying 8 Euro glasses of nasty beer.
- If slightly lucky: They try to buy drugs from an undercover cop who busts them and takes them down to the police station.
- If slightly unlucky: They get robbed by one of the dealers or pickpockets outside the club.
- If extremely unlucky: They don’t find anyone selling drugs outside the club, go inside and under minimal encouragement from some pretty young thing, start buying 160 Euro bottles of crap cava.