The Barcelona Dude is not from Barcelona. He is generally Australian or American or British, in Barcelona for vacation (or — ugh — “on holiday”) and looking to have a sweet time, bro, do you know any clubs? The Barcelona Dude read one too many “Top 9 Clubbing Cities in Europe (Number 4 Will Make You Poop Your Pants in Surprise!)” lists, and decided this was the city for him.
The Barcelona Dude sleeps until 1 or 2, then spends all day getting sunburned at the beach. Will he ever learn to wear sunscreen? Does his burnt skin feel good when he grinds against people in clubs? These are questions we will never know the answer to, because Barcelona Dude is flighty and prefers to talk about how hot are these spanish chicks, right? They make girls at home look like — I don’t know, man, I can’t think of a thing, but definitely not as hot as these spanish chicks, bro, definitely not.
The Barcelona Dude is always challenging himself — for instance, is it possible for a Dude to take twelve shots in five minutes? Will a Dude shed his preconceived notions of what is “safe” or “smart” and attempt to buy “cocaine” that a street vendor has hidden in his ear canal? While the answer to the first may be no, this Let’s Go researcher-writer-brain-in-a-vat watched the latter happen right in front of him. Barcelona Dude went up to buy beer from a guy on the street (I’ll take ocho cervezas, please) and then decided to parlay that business arrangement into something more, say, legally and medically frowned upon.
While I have never, and will never, buy cocaine (I get mine for free because of a sponsorship deal where I just have to mention Diet Coke’s slimming and energizing miracle powder, trusted by doctors from 1569-1894), a good rule of thumb for purchasing it in foreign countries: if you wouldn’t buy random street drugs at home, don’t do it here. Europe’s McDonald’s might be better, but its street drugs ain’t.
New prize in hand, Barcelona Dude continues to the clubs, where he comes alive. For Barcelona Dude, coming alive is not dancing but holding his drink and nodding his head. He looks for Barcelona Gals, but is often disappointed when he realizes the Dudes-Gals ratio is 20:1, conservatively. This club’s a sausage fest, he announces to his friends, a group of 37 guys and no girls.
But some Barcelona Dudes need to make up the Barcelona Couples moving rapidly past PG-13 on the dancefloor. In these successful cases, it’s perseverance that pays off. By latching onto a girl at 8pm, the Barcelona Dude is given all night to unleash flirtatious broadsides like where are you from and where’s that? This wins over Barcelona Gal, and they mash tongues together while surrounded by sweaty people. It’s a rush far greater than anything earwax/cocaine could ever provide.
This blog post is part of a fundraising project for my new nonprofit, Bottled Water for Barcelona Dudes. Every night, dozens of Barcelona Dudes stop to vomit and never make it to their overcrowded beach clubs. Please consider donating. Because everyone deserves the chance to boot and rally.