At 1 p.m. we emerged into a sun-soaked afternoon without a cloud in the sky and the temperature parked at a comfortable 80 degrees. With a Metro stop conveniently located right outside our apartment door, we hopped on board and headed over to see one of Goudy’s most famous works, a church still in progress, La Sagrada Familia. Fantastically impressive, Sagrada Familia was a sight to behold. From the crazy architecture to the intricate details, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Definitely a recommended sight worth checking out while in Barcelona.
After circumventing the church a few times and snapping several photos, we stopped for lunch at a Greek café across the street. Famished, the four of us cleared a communal bowl of hummus in approximately 3.2 seconds flat. A Coca Cola (as they call it over here) and a mouthwateringly delicious meal of greasy chicken pitas and hot sauce later, the group was content and it was agreed that life just doesn’t get better than this.
Following another stroll around the church, Sagar and I parted with Nick and Saumya as she had to catch a flight to Glasgow, Scotland for work the duration of the week. Not having cell phones (Sagar’s fell victim to a drowning incident in the Mediterranean while in Ibiza), we decided to meet back up with Nick in the center of Plaza de Catalunya at 4:30 p.m. So old school, I love it! In the meantime, Sagar and I jumped on the Metro to go and check out the local beach, Barceloneta.
Since it was a holiday in Barcelona, making our way to the beach was relatively easy as we just followed the throngs of people decked out in swimsuits and beach bags. After de-boarding the train, it is about a 15-minute walk to the beach along a vast promenade lined with restaurants and shops. It was at about the 5-minute mark into this walk; however, that an all-to-familiar rumbling in my stomach triggered the alarm that I needed to find a restroom and I needed to find one quick.
It is no secret that I have a sensitive stomach and the combination of traveling in a foreign country, drinking the night previous and following up with a greasy meal drenched in hot sauce was, in retrospect, a disaster waiting to happen.
So, I turn to Sagar and as casually as I can, I say, “Um, I think we are going to need to find a bano soon. And I mean really soon …”
He looks at me and understands the urgency, so we quickly assess our options. Apparently Barcelona sees no value in public restrooms because in four days there, I never saw one. That option was out. My next option was sneaking into one of the restaurants guarded heavily by men waving menus right outside the entrance.
In a moment of desperation, I sprinted past one of them while he tried to accost an unfortunate tourist. Head down, my eyes on the prize, I power-walked directly to the back. To my disappointment, the only door available was marked with a large sign in all caps, “PRIVADO”. Even I knew what that meant. Damn.
After this dead end, I returned to Sagar waiting outside and shook my head frantically to let him know it was a no-go. Before I could say anything, we were on the move. Then, we both saw it at the same time: a beautiful beacon shining amid the cafes. Fifty paces ahead was a Best Western with sliding glass doors offering entrance into the lobby. I darted through the crowd like a criminal evading capture. Sagar followed close behind. Past the sliding door, directly to the left was a stairwell leading down to a floor below. It could only lead to one place.
“Go down. I’ll keep the receptionist occupied,” Sagar whispered.
Without hesitation, I scampered down the stairs and, as if it was meant to be, a door was propped open leading directly into the only available room at the foot of the stairs – a bathroom with two stalls. “Thank you Jesus!” I muttered to myself as I quickly barricaded myself inside.
Several minutes later, I hear the shuffle of feet and the slam of the stall door next to me.
“Welp, I feel sorry for this dude,” I think to myself.
Then I hear a voice and it is Sagar. “Kylie, I have to go too…”
Me: “Oh gawd.”
And so it went, two friends vacationing in Barcelona ended up with a vastly different kind of life “experience” in Spain than either of us had bargained for …
Upon my attempt to hightail it out of there as fast as I could, I was thwarted at the door of the bathroom by a hefty, short-haired Best Western female employee with her arms crossed, staring me down. Just beyond her, at the top of the stairs was another portly Best Western woman employee, arms also crossed and fixed with the stare of a wild cheetah about to attack its prey.
So, here I am standing in the bathroom (which I have just blown up simultaneously with my friend) with two scary Spanish women staring me down and Sagar, not more than 8 paces away, still behind a stall suffering from the consequences of our Greek lunch.
All I wanted to do was check out the beach … was that too much to ask?
I briefly consider sprinting up the stairs, but am afraid that the odds of making it past two of these Helgas are not in my favor. One, I could totally take … two, not so much.
Suddenly, the one at the bottom of the stairs speaks. “You stay in dis hotel?”
Me: With a tentative head nod, “Umm, si.”
Helga 1: “You have room key?”
Me: Think fast, think fast. “Umm, si. My boyfriend. He has key.”
Clearly not buying my story, Helga 1 presses further. “What your room number?”
I have now taken on Helga 1’s accent and do not speak in coherent sentences. “No se! My boyfriend. He know!”
Helga 1 is not amused by my feeble lies and thrusts her finger into my face. “You use this bathroom, it cost you two fifty Euro!”
She wasn’t playing around. As soon as she brought out the finger point, it was evident that I was not going to win this standoff.
Acting as if I was just caught stealing a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store, I put my hands up in surrender and nodded to the demand, “Si, si. I pay your stinkin’ 2.50 Euro.”
After an escort up the stairs, Helga 1 lightened up a little and decided to sell me a bottle of water for 2.50 Euro, as opposed to a straight cash-for-toilet transaction. I would have liked to see that receipt – scrapbook material right there!
“Sweet, a bottle of water and a toilet … you are too kind Helga, really, you are.”
I buy two, one for me and one for my bathroom buddy for life, Sagar. Helga appears to be a bit bewildered as to why I bought two. Perhaps she thinks I thought I owed double the price since I spent double the time I should have in there.
Meanwhile, Helga 2 has disappeared and we hear a banging coming from down below.
Helga looks at me and questions, “Someone else down there?”
“Si, si!” I reply.
Helga 2 appears from around a corner and the two Helgas exchange hurried, indecipherable Spanish between one another. Helga 2 then runs down the stairs below to release Sagar from the cell that is the Best Western bathroom. She had locked him in.
I am convinced that this must be how they entertain themselves during the day. Leave the bathroom door open as bait for tourists who think they are being clever by sneaking in unnoticed and then, BAM, as soon as they are in, lock the door and don’t let them out until they have been completely humiliated and forced out of whatever cash they think they can get from them. Well done, ladies, well done. I hope you had a good laugh. But just as a PS … Your toilet and my bottle of water were worth every penny … I would have paid 10 Euro … thanks for the bargain ladies, joke’s on you!
Haha...this is sooo Tucker Max!
ReplyDeleteGirls don't poop. Nice try with the story.
ReplyDeleteThis one is coming out at your wedding...no pun intended!
ReplyDelete