So there I was in the middle of Barcelona, slightly inebriated, lost and for lack of a better term, proper fucked. Rana was going out with her friends and decided Devo had had too much to drink to make it to the club. Rana, of course, was right. I stumbled into the subway letting every thief from here to London know I was prime pray with my can't-quite-stand-still gait. I found refuge on the hard plastic seat of the underground and with head in hands, stole occasional upward glances at the lit up little subway map.
Now in a sober moment I would have known that I could transfer in one of the stations and easily make my way to the metro stop right by our house, thus avoiding further danger and exposing my incapacitated form to chicanery. Not the decision I made. So incapacitated was I, that all I could think about was the stop where we boarded the train, a full 15 minute walk from our normal stop.
Emerging from the stuffy relative safety of the subway station, I stupidly trudged onward through the main pickpocket hotbed in town. 3 in the morning was fast approaching and with it went the bussel of tourists and foreign students. The streets were quieter, populated with locals and immigrants. As I neared the street down which I was supposed to walk, a shout rang out in the cool air.
I still have no idea what he said but a moment later I felt a hand on my back. The hand I would later surmise was designed to distract me while the assailant tried to hook my ankle with his foot. What happened next defies logic but what the hell, I'll tell you anyway. I saw or felt the foot coming around my ankle and just kind of powered through it. Instinctively I stiff armed my attacker in the chest at the same time. The combine trip-reversal and the butt of my hand in his chest sent the man reeling backward as I yelled drunkenly, "No me tocas!" which translates to "who's laughing now, bitch?".
I never looked back.
Ten minutes later I arrived at the apartment and managed to get into bed. Meanwhile Rana and her friend had made it to the club and discovered they were charging and exorbitant cover fee. No dice, said the value conscious maidens and made for home where they would presumably be let in by a red-nosed jolly Devo. Not so.
Due to a bit of unfortunateness, our friend who was staying with at us had her bag stolen with our house keys in it the day before so we only had one set of keys, which I alone possessed because I was going home first. They began ringing the buzzer, which in my defense is über quiet, at around 5am. At 5:30 our kind Russian neighbors, who we had only met the day before, heard our buzzer, went out on the balcony, and thankfully let Rana and Basak in. Once they got to our door they were able to wake me up with a clever pounding/ ringing the doorbell ritual they'd worked out. Apparently I answered by buzzing them in the front door, which of course they already were in.
Morals?
Drink moderately, employ the stiffarm, and always have a spare set of keys.
We cooked, chopped, fried, basted, salted and sauteed all day. By the time dinner actually rolled around we were all very hungry. Rana and I made 4 liters of sangria which was devoured and the rest of the group brought wine. The first course that came out was a cold vegetable salad. 
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