Prompt: "A song that reminds you of somewhere you traveled"
Selected by Allison
Phil Collins
No Jacket Required, 1985
It's 2008, and John, Stephan, and I are sitting in a booth at the Barcelona Hard Rock Cafe. We were about halfway through our study abroad semester. Our little trio bopped around Europe for four months: three friends, two of them lovers. The dynamic seems complicated, but it worked for us. We each took turns as the third wheel. John and I had been inseparable friends since a few weeks into freshman year. Stephan and I were coming up on our first anniversary together (we'd spend it together in Dublin). John and Stephan lived together in Rome and had their own budding bromance. This was the first leg of our fall break trip. Three days in Barcelona, three days in Paris.
The night before, John had dragged us to a nightclub where we got horrendously lost (too broke for a taxi), and yet still arrived a solid two hours before anyone with class showed up. We placed our standard order at the bar, "three of the cheapest shots you have" (often Sambuca), and danced until we eventually got kicked out. Why put a giant speaker on the dance floor if you're not supposed to climb on it? Out on the street, John and I got into a fight. People used to call us out for bickering like an old married couple, but this was our worst fight yet. We laugh about it now. Mainly because we can't remember what exactly it was about. It got physical; I think I threw a punch. There was shoving. One of us fell over. Probably me, I fell over a lot. The three of us eventually stumbled back to our shared hotel room, and John and I made up over a pack of cigarettes on the balcony.
Hungover in a Hard Rock Cafe; not exactly the height of cultural exploration. It may have been the only place open (travel tip—everything in Barcelona is closed on Sunday). Honestly, after such a long time away from home, it was nice to have a taste of home—burgers, fries, chintzy American nonsense. I don't remember what I ordered. I don't remember what we talked about. I only remember that this Phil Collins song played three times during our time there. It played a minimum of three times. It could have been more. The absurdity ebbed and flowed through our collective hangovers, washing away any lingering resentment from the night before. We would have more adventures over the next two months, but nothing stuck with me like "Sussudio."
No comments:
Post a Comment