An anecdote from the Barcelona airport.

Here’s a story I thought I should at least write down, and despite my better judgment, I’m sharing it. It’s called “The Hot Czech Chick from Prague that had big Bills.”

So there I was, seated at a bar in Barcelona Airport waiting for my flight to Copenhagen, barely enjoying the swill that constitutes beer in Spain, reading the Count of Monte Cristo. Suddenly I was approached by a woman asking me if the stool next to me was occupied. Pulling myself out of a 19^th century translation of a French literary classic to answer even so simple a question proved difficult. I half turned and initially answered “yes,” but then apologized, and told her my mind was somewhere else, that the seat was in fact up for grabs.

Listening to her order coffee, her Spanish was pretty good, but I could tell she was foreign. A problem soon rose as she attempted to pay for her coffee with a 200 euro bill. (Up to that point, I had never even seen one of those bad boys. Euros feel like spending Monopoly Money at first, but that novelty wears off when you see your bank statement ...George Washington ain't worth what he used to be). As Mama Rosa would say, “Que fuerte!” [hard to translate it, but it’s kind of like saying the Lord’s name in vain, but not. Sufficiently Spanish.] Of course, the lady behind the counter was having none of it, so feeling philanthropic for no particular reason I scrounged for some euro change in my pocket and paid for her. Upon doing so, I turned to her as she thanked me, and realized, “Great Scott! She’s a smoking-hot chick from Eastern Europe!”


At this particular moment, it donned on me that after being here a month, I still had yet to meet one (without which, no stereotypical American-college-student-adventure abroad would be complete – for references, see American Pie or Eurotrip.)

We chatted in a mix of Spanish and English. She complemented my Spanish (yet another European shocked to find even a quasi bilingual American). Eventually, age came up, and she was very surprised to learn that I was all of 20 (nice thing now, shitty thing as I get older).

Well you can imagine that I was doubly surprised to learn that she was THIRTY. Not only a hot Eastern European chick, but a hot older European chick – oh the intrigue! Well, the details are lost on me (or for another day), but I distinctly remember her parting words: “look women in the eye when you talk to them.” And with that, she was off. Yowza.