The common theme of this trip obviously involved getting into trouble due to the use of alcohol. This night was no different from the rest I assure you. The trip had moved forth to the city of Sevilla. The majority of the posse would be attending a party boat that evening. Sure that sounds like a boatload of fun (see what I did there?), but it is very deceiving. There would not be any alcohol involved, so basically it's just riding around on a boat. Where's the party in that? Therefore, the tantalizing trio decided once more to do some exploring on our own. This time we added a fourth member to the wolfpack. Seems one female had caught on to which group of people was having the greatest amount of fun on the trip.
There were drinks to be shared before we left for our voyage. This was done in a timely manner and we went downstairs to meet up with the rest of the group before they departed for their "party boat." As we all chatted about the upcoming events in the hotel lobby, our tour guide, Kirsten, approached the four us that were set to do our independent exploring. She pulled us to the side to have a very stern conversation with the quartet. She was German and had a very thick accent, which possibly makes this quote funnier for those of us that witnessed it than it would be reading it from a page. "You guys have been drinking and you are going to get more drinks aren't you?" she asked us. We responded that this was absolutely not the case. "Shut da fuck up!" she sternly stated. It caught us all off guard. She mentioned that she didn't feel comfortable letting us go out there, and would need to tell our chaperon. This is where my mastery of the German language paid off, or so I thought. I was born in Germany and speak fluent German so I decided to utilize this to my advantage. I began to speak to her in my native dialect, and assured her that I would watch out for everyone and we would be fine. Kirsten seemed to fine with that, and told me to make sure nothing went afoul. That was all the clearance we needed.
Off we went into the yonder with no apparent destination in mind. We went into the heart of the city, not keeping track of exactly which path we were taking. Eventually, we decided to sit down and enjoy some tapas. This was considered to be a necessity on a visit to Spain, and it was indeed magnificent. Once the tapas had been devoured, the four of us decided to return back to the hotel to finish what we had started. Only this was not going to be as easy as anticipated. As we attempted to navigate through the back alleys and roads to find our location we were becoming increasingly further lost in this city. We considered a taxi, however since we had just arrived at the hotel earlier that day, we could not recall the name of the hotel. Therefore we spent a solid hour and a half aimlessly walking the streets of Sevilla attempting to find our destination. Eventually we accidentally stumbled upon where we needed to be.
At that time we proceeded to return to the room and continue the party in our room. Shortly after Kirsten came to the room and joined us inside. Once more we were interrogated about our levels of sobriety, and whereabouts for the evening. After about 15 minutes she left the room. Shortly after we heard a knock at the door. I hurriedly cocked my head back and finished off the bottle of Tangueray, and stashed the bottle in the closet. I opened the door to find our Spanish teacher standing there. She requested that we come out into the hall so she could speak to us. Mrs. Wilkinson stated that she had heard concerns from the tour guide that we were skipping the party boat to go out drinking. We stated that this was simply not the case. I vehemently stated, "All we did was have some tapas. I had jamon serrano." Apparently I felt at that time that I needed to hammer that point home, because I would repeat the fact that I had jamon serrano at least 3 more times in the conversation. In my opinion, she did not believe our answer whatsoever, but she left seemingly content with what we had told her. Another bullet had been dodged by the daring trio. The night continued as every other night had, or so I believe. I honestly don't recall the end of that evening, but as far as I can recall nothing scandalous happened beyond that. Thus ends the story of my night lost in the city of Sevilla. I will attempt to conclude the Spain story in the near future with one last glorious post.