It Happened One Night (Part II).

***If you didn't read it, part I of this post is here.

Our time in Spain had been a dream I never wished to wake up from, but all good things must come to an end and this one was no exception.

The Foreign Cinema and Accelerated Spanish classes we chose for the semester had been a breeze I gladly allowed myself to sway in, plus the vending machines serving cappucinos and beer at the university cafeteria weren't too shabby either.

"So," said Roxy as she opened the blinds and windows in our room, a cool zephyr filling the space in spite of the summer heat. "What does Annah want to do, on her last day as a Spanish señorita?"

"Die," I groaned dramatically.

"Don't be ridiculous. We'll come back as soon as I win the lottery next month," she teased me. "Now spit it. Que hacemos?"

"Nothing that involves thinking," I finally replied, covering my head with the sheets as I tried to come to grips with the grim reality of a season ending.

I heard her snort loudly and tap dance around the room, then she pulled the covers off me in one silent woosh and said, "That would be exactly like every other day this summer, and we can't have that." With that she was off to the kitchen for coffee, whistling to herself and clicking her heels to her own little tune.

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We went to Plaza Mayor a little after noon and had lunch at our favorite seafood restaurant, bidding farewell to our favorite place in all of Salamanca.

It seemed that a few months had taken place in only minutes and now there was only this, that bittersweet feeling of emptiness and wonder for what's to come. Roxy was sipping her espresso in silence, surely lost in her own nostalgic thoughts as she watched some pigeons feast on bread crumbs.

"I want to go to church," I said suddenly, to which Roxy responded with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous laugh.

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Upon our arrival, we caught the end part of wedding ceremony taking place that afternoon, as we quietly took our seats in a pew at the far end of the church. When it was all over and the groom kissed his bride, we rushed outside with the rest of the wedding party to see them off. A stocky man with a bald head and red bow tie handed us a small bag of rice. When in Rome.

The happy couple exited the church beaming at their friends and family, waves of rice flying all around them.

"How long do you give 'em?" I whispered to Roxy in English.

She laughed and gave me a sideways mock glare. "Forever."

"Que viva el amor!" Screamed a small child enthusiastically. Then he pinched my butt and ran to hide behind his mother.

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That night, Roxy was more excited than a schoolgirl going to her first dance, singing to Shakira as she did her makeup, then forcing me to sit down so she could do my own. I kind of thought I looked like a cheap hooker but didn't want to offend her so off we were.

Our farewell dinner was set to be inside an old ship that no longer went anywhere. The ship was set up with round and rectangular tables covered in white cloth, penguin like waiters walked around with champagne for the taking. Wild Eyes was his usual self, walking around the ship pretending to be a pirate while wine sloshed in his glass, spilling on the carpet and staining the dresses of unsupecting victims.

After our meal music was played and we sang and cried and hugged each other like morons. It was kind of like high school all over again, but with better liquor.

Once midnight hit and we were basically kicked off the ship, we headed to a narrow street filled with bars. Wild Eyes was already plastered by the time we reached Bar #3, and Roxy wasn't too far behind. Maybe I'd had one too many bread rolls over dinner, or my liver had built permanent immunity to wine after months of incessant partying, but I was pretty lucid in spite of myself.

Bar #3 was reknowned for their special mamadas (Spanish word for blowjob). Said shot, is meant to be taken by wrapping your lips around the glass and swallowing it all back at once, no hands allowed. At two dollars a pop, everyone had at least six each. Who could refuse a cheap blowjob, after all?

By one thirty everyone was hammered, except me and my gay friend Frankie.

We eventually became bored of blowjobs and moved on to a larger nightclub called Vice, where we'd split the cost of two VIP tables to continue the fiesta. As soon as we walked through the double doors I could sense trouble brewing.

With large amounts of liquor in them, my friends lost all desire to speak Spanish and behave respectfully towards the locals. As far as I could tell, we were the only Americans in the club, and we know just how much Europeans love us (don't shoot the messenger). The club's hostess took our $400 and escorted us to our tables without so much as a thank you, dropping our 2 bottles as she glared at Frankie dancing flamboyantly a few feet away from her.

"What is it with these people and no ice," Roxy pouted in my direction.

Wild Eyes just looked at her and snorted. "Fuck the ice! Where exactly are the mixers, dude?"

Not wanting to cause a scene, I quickly went to the bar to fetch a bucket of ice and juice, only to be greeted by quite the spectacle upon my return. My dear Roxy had thrown up all over herself and the floor of the VIP area, as clubgoers looked at her in disgust and Wild Eyes laughed, taking shots from the vodka straight out of the bottle.

"What are you guys doing?" I growled. "What is happening?"

"Oh, it's just a little spittle, Catherine. No big deal."

I quickly went into damage control mode, grabbing Roxy by the hand and leading her to the bathroom, where I laid toilet paper all over the floor of a stall and asked her to get on her knees and let the vomit rip. She had no issues with obliging while I held her hair back and wondered if I could still sneak in a drink after this fiasco, when the door slammed open and in walked that bitch of a hostess, screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs.

Roxy continued to vomit, unfazed by her surroundings, while I simply stared at Bitchzilla with a silent smile, curse words streaming out of her mouth like daggers I was impervious to.

"Are you done?" I asked calmly in Spanish once she shut up.

"Just get the fuck out!" She shouted, almost bursting a blood vessel in her eye as I suppressed a laugh.

I inhaled deeply, still holding Roxy's hair, simply stating I wouldn't be leaving until my friend was through vomiting and all cleaned up. Bitchzilla slammed the door and returned two minutes later with three male bouncers, a smug look on her face.

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and exhaled slowly before speaking very slowly. "I am not leaving. Until my friend is done. And cleaned up. You can bring the King of Spain and all his servants and they will wait, just as you will." I then directed my gaze to the three security boys, who were all looking amused. No one said anything.

By this point Roxy was asking for help in getting up, and after managing to get her on her feet we moved on to the sink, where I cleaned her shirt and hair with paper towels and scrubbed her cheeks and chin clean. "We're done now," I said. "And don't worry, we'll see ourselves out."

On the way out, I was holding Roxy up and signaling to Wild Eyes that it was time to go, when I heard Bitchzilla still cursing and screaming from a distance. What the hell was wrong with this girl? The three guards were behind me and she followed them like their sergeant, making sure we left the premises. Apparently my lack of enthusiasm over her hysteria didn't please Bitchzilla, because she broke through the guards before I reached the door and pulled my hair.

Out of nowhere, Frankie came and got a hold of Roxy, and I immediately turned around and slapped Bitchzilla smack on the ear. It wasn't exactly the most effective execution of violence, but I felt the sting on my hand which meant I was winning. Before I knew it Bitchzilla and I were on the floor clawing and slapping each other, and I could hear Frankie howling with terror in the background.

"Don't do it, Annah. Don't do this, oh my God," he cried. "Someone do something!"

I was wondering how someone so skinny could be so vicious when the crazy tramp bit me and I lost all touch with reality. A clump of her curly hair waved in the air as I repeatedly punched her, then aimed a kick in the dark that apparently ended everything.

The cops arrived soon after and cuffed me without asking our group any questions. Wild Eyes attempted to defend me but was too drunk to sound coherent, so they cuffed him too.

Frankie held on to a barely awake Roxy and said me, "You're going to end up like Brokedown Palace, Annah. I told you not to do it."

Gay men are so dramatic.

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So there we were, Wild Eyes and I, waiting in the back of a van while a dozen voices argued outside about the order of events.

A cop opened the van doors what seemed like ten hours later and finally asked for my side of the story. When I was finished, he said the security guards had vouched for me and I'd be free to go after signing some paperwork.

By the time Daniel and I were released, everyone including Roxy had gone on their merry way. Damn drunks. I glanced up at Daniel and jokingly asked how I looked.

He cleverly ignored me and said, "You know what time it is, Catherine? Taco time." He made a great production of patting his belly, as if we hadn't been on the verge of being behind bars just a few minutes before.

"This is Spain, Daniel. Not Mexico. Let's just go home."

"Home is where the heart is. And my heart is in my stomach. Now let's make it happy, shall we?"

I sighed and took off my shoes, grabbing his hand as we walked down a hill back to Plaza Mayor, my bare feet collecting the dirt of the city in passing. We eventually found home in the form of lamb gyros an hour later.

... And just as Daniel had predicted, our hearts were very happy.