My good friend Evan sent me a raw documentation of a night he had out in Italy and I couldn’t be more grateful for someone else to write a post for and not about me. I have added my personal commentary in parenthesis #hautemessman
“So I’m sitting in this Italian club built into a freaking mountain overlooking the Mediterranean. Easily one of the coolest joints I’ve ever been to from an environmental perspective. Apparently Jackie O owned the place back in the day. So it’s got that historical thing going too. Unfortunately, there are literally no people here. Just me, the DJ, and 4 servers. (PARTAY) The lady at the front desk who brought me down via elevator said ‘few peeeple’ and smiled weakly, as if to apologize. I grab a table at the edge of the railing. Maybe I’ll jump over. It’s humid as fuck out here.
Those 5 Australian chicks I met at the beach must have stood me up. Or they never found me on Facebook. Maybe they will come. I’ll give it until about 12:30… Not like I have anything better to do. It’s Tuesday and I’m vacationing with my parents, my uncle, and my uncle’s girlfriend. Balling out as usual. Bar tender is hot. Maybe I’ll talk to her. Wait. I don’t know any Italian except “Where are the bars?” “Thank you” “I am sorry” and “Limoncello, please.” Yup, I’m in real good shape here.
As I contemplated my jump, 3 beautiful girls walked in, and they’re definitely not those Australians. You can just tell. Fuck I wish I could communicate! Barely have any game in English as it is… shouldn’t that make it easier? Shit I don’t know. What do I say first? I know how to tell them what my name is… Where does the conversation go after that? This is fucked. They look serious. Damn those Aussie whores.
Ok, fuck it. It’s a different country and different language, but at the end of the day, they’re just chicks at a bar. Man up, walk over there, and smile like a dumb American. They love that shit. Better chug this 10-euro drink down. Or wait for those other girls to show up? I can do both, I suppose. Sounds like a plan. (What a multi-tasker)
So I guess I should stop looking like a fucking creeper and go talk to them. And say what? “Thank you, Limoncello. I am sorry” That’s not going to get me any action. I mean, they’re here on vacation they won’t mind if I talk to them right? Hopefully, I won’t creep them out. But what if I make an ass of myself? Yep, that’s definitely Italian. Shiiiit. Maybe I’ll ask them for a lighter. That worked with the Australians. (For your lavender cigarettes? What the fuck is a lavender cigarette? This troubles me)
Fuck I just smoked. I’m kinda light headed. I’ve smoked like 100 cigarettes today. And this humidity! And all those mussels at dinner. I feel like I’m going to puke. Ok, calm down, roll another ciggy, and go talk to them dammit. All right, I need a few minutes. That plays well into the waiting for Australians plan nicely anyway. And by the time they come I’ll be smoking with these fine Italian girls. That’ll show them.
Shit I gotta suck on an ice cube or something. It feels like I’m on molly. That would really help right now, actually. I’d just put my hair in a ponytail, dance over to them and pretend to be euro trash. Ok that’s my plan now. No wait, I don’t have any drugs, stupid. Should have smuggled some in. Who knew I’d need it?
Wait, I don’t NEED anything. I got my ponytail, my cigarettes with dried lavender (excuse me?) and my Dad’s awesome college Hawaiian shirt. Yea, I’m screwed.
Ok. It’s rolled. Not me, the cigarette. Game time.
Turns out they were French! And they spoke English. Well, enough of it at least. We shot the shit for a bit, laughed about how beautiful yet lame the bar was, and ordered a couple more expensive drinks. Even had an off the cuff discussion about studio versus raw photography with one (too high brow for this blog). But what she really wants to do is paint (gag me). Me too, I lied. They decided to journey to a nearby town where there was supposedly more going on. And invited me to come along. I didn’t. Instead, I said “Ciao” and walked home. (#maturity)
Why? Because I am an idiot. “No, I have a long day tomorrow” I said. What, a long day with the family on a boat to some island? I’ve done a lot more with far less sleep. But I’d have to find a way back to this town, and there isn’t a whole lot of transportation around here short of some crazy bus drivers taking people to and from the beach by day. And I have no cell service. They would need to find a way back too, right? Maybe they don’t care where they end up. They are 3 cute French girls on vacation in Italy, somebody will take them in. (Like a stray animal?) Fuck.
But I have their numbers. (#optimism) And they’re staying nearby so perhaps we shall meet again. Most importantly, I didn’t sit there by myself like a loser smoking hand-rolled American Spirits. (With lavender…) Score one for the mono-lingual American kid in Italy!! Booyakasha! ”
Evan… glad you are keepin your hoe’s in different area codes. Next time I would like to see more follow through. All that ground work and lavender infused cigarettes (which I am still really confused about). Way to keep it PG Ev. Send your Haute Mess Moments to email@example.com