Barcelona
by Lee Carrick
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: A couple of strong ones.
Description: An inauspicious start for a newbie world traveller.
_____________________________________________________________________
“What have you got in those bags, boys?” Zen, Tao’s brother, asked with a smirk on his face. He had picked us up from the train station in Barcelona and took us to his apartment in the South American quarter. I knew exactly what I had in my brand new, black, 75 litre Jeep backpack. I had packed and unpacked that shiny, new bag an uncountable number of times. “I have four pairs of swimming shorts, one pair of cutoff jeans, eight casual t-shirts, two dress shirts, one pair of smart pants, two pairs of jeans, one pair of flip flops, one pair of trainers, one woollen hat, one flat cap (my grandfather’s), one pair of smart shoes, one casual belt, one smart belt, two sweatshirts, one hooded one not, one pair of woollen gloves, seven pairs of underpants, seven pairs of socks, one pair of spectacles and two pairs of sunglasses. I had four books (three Irvine Welsh novels and a teach-yourself-German text book), three MP3 players (all with different music genres), one mobile phone, two chargers, music speakers and two pairs of headphones. I had one toiletry bag containing travel shampoo, travel conditioner, travel deodorant, travel shower gel, a travel toothbrush and a tube of travel toothpaste, nail clippers and razor blades. I had one plastic bag to hold my medical supplies including, antibiotics migraine medication, antihistamines, painkillers, anti-diarrhea tablets, antibiotic powder, indigestion tablets and a sinus inhaler. My bag also contained a padlock, a set of hair clippers, a pack of playing cards, a notebook, my travel documents (with photocopies), my passport photos and a travel guide for Asia.
“Ha ha, well, you’re well prepared I’ll give you that. Let me give you some advice, when you go traveling for the first time you need double the money you think you do, half the clothes and triple the drugs.” Zen was looking at us like the newbies we were. Of course I would soon find out he was right.
Zen was a well-traveled man, spoke four or five languages and had almost no formal education; he was an interesting and impressive self-educated person. He had thick dark hair for a man of his age (he was close to forty) and a face that told a thousand stories. Zen was older than Tao by more than ten years and had been on a lot of adventures with their father Angus. Tao had been too young to tag along. Zen and Angus had run marijuana from South America, Asia and North Africa and Zen was the only person who had visited Angus while he was imprisoned in India.
His apartment was in a quiet part of Barcelona, it was a relatively large place, two bedrooms, a large kitchen and bathroom, a dining room and good sized living room as well as a balcony overlooking the famous cucumber building in downtown Barcelona. We sat down on the couch and waited while Zen rolled a large joint. He lit it up and we passed it around for a while until it was down to the filter. Zen was playing some Spanish Jazz music and chatting furiously with his younger brother about our plans. I sat rather stoned, quietly content that I was there and not at home watching television and waiting to go to bed before another monotonous day at work. “So, Nicky, first time away eh? You must be excited.” Zen had a huge smile permanently spanning his face. “Yeah,” was all I could manage, I wasn’t much of a stoner before then and I was struggling to focus. Zen continued to smile. “Come with me, boys.” Zen led us to the balcony and opened the door, he had a great view. The balcony was small, barely enough for two people to stand on it. “These are my babies.” Zen was pointing to two medium size marijuana plants growing happily on his balcony. Tao began to stroke them. “You can legally own two plants in Barcelona for your own consumption,” Zen explained. Tao continued to caress the green plants. His working class boxer side was long gone; Tao was in full hippy stoner mode.
We spent the first night smoking and talking about our travels, Zen imparted his endless advice and I sat and listened. At about two in the morning we went out to a little a café on Zen’s street, the café was surprisingly busy for that time in the morning. The beautiful sound of Catalan conversation vibrated through the night. We each ordered a café con lece and sat at a table outside in the warm Barcelona air. Such a simple night and yet wonderful; no crazy parties, no hard drugs, no sex and no fights. Traveling had captured me and it would never let go.
The next day….
We left the club relatively early, she had that look in her eyes and I had that whiskey in my head. I had left without telling Tao and Zen where I was going and in the back of my inebriated mind I knew Tao would be pissed, but I was too focused on fucking this girl to care too much.
The taxi ride to her place was filled with drunken, sexual fire, she wriggled and rived in her seat and there was slow but deliberate movement in my jeans. The elevator ride up the fourteen floors was excruciatingly slow and the CCTV camera staring at us made it impossible to begin any undressing early. She fought with the lock on her door for what seemed like an eternity. Finally she got it open and burst into the living room; we were both naked by the time we reached the bedroom stairs. I leaped on the bed and laid back; she licked her fingers and moistened her vagina and its surroundings before lowering herself onto me. I grabbed at her waist and pulled her flush to me, creating a sexual right angle. She began to move, slowly at first but the liquor soon encouraged her to become more animated. I fondled her breasts, put my fingers in her mouth and pulled at her hair. Within a few minutes we were full steam ahead and I could begin to feel the wetness of her orgasm.
Things started to become uncomfortable for me, the lager and whiskey in my stomach had embarked on a demonic dance, I could taste them both in my mouth and the room began to spin. I stopped thinking about the sex and tried to focus at a point on the ceiling; but the demonic dance continued; the lager and whiskey started in my stomach but they quickly danced up my throat and towards my mouth.
At the club I had asked for a whiskey and ice. The Spanish barman filled the glass half way with ice and poured the whiskey. I looked on as he almost filled my glass with straight whiskey. I took my glass over to the table. “What’s going on man?” I asked Zen and Tao. “They fill until you stay stop in Barcelona, there’s no measurements in this place or most bars here.” I was amazed, every drink after that was straight and full. I had met the girl a few hours later, I was dancing like a human emancipated for the first time and she was watching me from a table close to the bar. I could see her looking over and giggling. The whiskey walked me over to her, step by step. I recall little of her appearance, she was dark skinned with black hair and petite body, I’m not even 100% certain she was Spanish. We left not long after the first dance.
I threw her off me and bolted to the toilet hitting every wall on the way there. I reached the bowl just in time and collapsed in a sorry heap on the floor with my head leaned over the toilet bowl and my still erect penis looking at me with disgust. The contractions began in my stomach, causing my body to evacuate that night’s libations, but as it did it also caused contractions in my erect penis. The vomit left my mouth violently and painted the toilet bowl a golden brown colour, at the same time my contracting penis was forcing out jets of alcoholic urine which was firing directly into my face and chest. I was simultaneously vomiting and pissing on myself. The violence of the vomit prevented me from taking any evasive action, I was paralysed by the demonic dance and now I was giving myself a golden shower. Too dazed to notice and too inebriated to care I lay on the cold bathroom tiles covered in piss and sick until the room stopped spinning, my penis became flaccid and my stomach was empty.
She had fallen asleep and was completely unaware of the state that I was in. Covered in my own urine and vomit and laying naked on the floor not five feet away from a shower that could wash the evidence of my demise away, I had neither the energy nor the inclination to clean myself. I was just happy the room was no longer orbiting my head. I closed my eyes and slept heavily. The next morning I awoke with the rising of the sun. The rays warmed my face and forced me to face the day. As I stared at the ceiling I began to recall the servile adventures of the previous night. My mouth had never been so dry nor tasted so revolting, the acidic smell emanating from my face and chest was rancid and my fingers smelt like whiskey and bile. I peeled myself up from the bathroom floor, closed the door as to avoid waking the girl, turned on the shower and scrubbed my skin with every cleaning liquid I could find. I dried, dressed and sneaked out of the apartment, I took no notice of the address, I wouldn’t return, I never wanted to see that bathroom again.
I walked out of her apartment building and staggered down the street in no direction in particular. The heat of the morning and the need for water forced me to concentrate and find a taxi. When I got back to Zen’s place Tao was still sleeping, there were beer cans and joint butts everywhere, it looked like they had been up quite late, I knew that when they awoke they would have questions. I knew when they asked me I would probably tell half the story.
I awoke a few hours later. Tao and Zen were nowhere to be seen but I was not alone. The whiskey was still sloshing around in my stomach, it was causing violent stabbing pains in the side of my head and The Black Dog was staring at me from across the room:
“Good afternoon, Nicky, good night last night, my friend? Did you wear a condom? I bet you didn’t. Silly little cunt, your dick’s going to fall off now Nicky, great way to start your trip. I just feel sorry for that poor girl, she’s going to wake up and have to clean your vomit and piss from the bathroom floor, she doesn’t deserve that, Nicky, she was a nice girl. Where are Tao and Zen, Nicky? They went out and didn’t even bother to wake you up, they’re sick of you already, Nicky, my friend, you’re selfish, reckless and annoying, you probably ruined their night.”
Tao was angry with me when he returned home that evening but once I’d explained my story Tao and Zen just wanted the details, the contents of which placated their anger. I told them most of the story, but not all.
Swearwords: A couple of strong ones.
Description: An inauspicious start for a newbie world traveller.
_____________________________________________________________________
“What have you got in those bags, boys?” Zen, Tao’s brother, asked with a smirk on his face. He had picked us up from the train station in Barcelona and took us to his apartment in the South American quarter. I knew exactly what I had in my brand new, black, 75 litre Jeep backpack. I had packed and unpacked that shiny, new bag an uncountable number of times. “I have four pairs of swimming shorts, one pair of cutoff jeans, eight casual t-shirts, two dress shirts, one pair of smart pants, two pairs of jeans, one pair of flip flops, one pair of trainers, one woollen hat, one flat cap (my grandfather’s), one pair of smart shoes, one casual belt, one smart belt, two sweatshirts, one hooded one not, one pair of woollen gloves, seven pairs of underpants, seven pairs of socks, one pair of spectacles and two pairs of sunglasses. I had four books (three Irvine Welsh novels and a teach-yourself-German text book), three MP3 players (all with different music genres), one mobile phone, two chargers, music speakers and two pairs of headphones. I had one toiletry bag containing travel shampoo, travel conditioner, travel deodorant, travel shower gel, a travel toothbrush and a tube of travel toothpaste, nail clippers and razor blades. I had one plastic bag to hold my medical supplies including, antibiotics migraine medication, antihistamines, painkillers, anti-diarrhea tablets, antibiotic powder, indigestion tablets and a sinus inhaler. My bag also contained a padlock, a set of hair clippers, a pack of playing cards, a notebook, my travel documents (with photocopies), my passport photos and a travel guide for Asia.
“Ha ha, well, you’re well prepared I’ll give you that. Let me give you some advice, when you go traveling for the first time you need double the money you think you do, half the clothes and triple the drugs.” Zen was looking at us like the newbies we were. Of course I would soon find out he was right.
Zen was a well-traveled man, spoke four or five languages and had almost no formal education; he was an interesting and impressive self-educated person. He had thick dark hair for a man of his age (he was close to forty) and a face that told a thousand stories. Zen was older than Tao by more than ten years and had been on a lot of adventures with their father Angus. Tao had been too young to tag along. Zen and Angus had run marijuana from South America, Asia and North Africa and Zen was the only person who had visited Angus while he was imprisoned in India.
His apartment was in a quiet part of Barcelona, it was a relatively large place, two bedrooms, a large kitchen and bathroom, a dining room and good sized living room as well as a balcony overlooking the famous cucumber building in downtown Barcelona. We sat down on the couch and waited while Zen rolled a large joint. He lit it up and we passed it around for a while until it was down to the filter. Zen was playing some Spanish Jazz music and chatting furiously with his younger brother about our plans. I sat rather stoned, quietly content that I was there and not at home watching television and waiting to go to bed before another monotonous day at work. “So, Nicky, first time away eh? You must be excited.” Zen had a huge smile permanently spanning his face. “Yeah,” was all I could manage, I wasn’t much of a stoner before then and I was struggling to focus. Zen continued to smile. “Come with me, boys.” Zen led us to the balcony and opened the door, he had a great view. The balcony was small, barely enough for two people to stand on it. “These are my babies.” Zen was pointing to two medium size marijuana plants growing happily on his balcony. Tao began to stroke them. “You can legally own two plants in Barcelona for your own consumption,” Zen explained. Tao continued to caress the green plants. His working class boxer side was long gone; Tao was in full hippy stoner mode.
We spent the first night smoking and talking about our travels, Zen imparted his endless advice and I sat and listened. At about two in the morning we went out to a little a café on Zen’s street, the café was surprisingly busy for that time in the morning. The beautiful sound of Catalan conversation vibrated through the night. We each ordered a café con lece and sat at a table outside in the warm Barcelona air. Such a simple night and yet wonderful; no crazy parties, no hard drugs, no sex and no fights. Traveling had captured me and it would never let go.
The next day….
We left the club relatively early, she had that look in her eyes and I had that whiskey in my head. I had left without telling Tao and Zen where I was going and in the back of my inebriated mind I knew Tao would be pissed, but I was too focused on fucking this girl to care too much.
The taxi ride to her place was filled with drunken, sexual fire, she wriggled and rived in her seat and there was slow but deliberate movement in my jeans. The elevator ride up the fourteen floors was excruciatingly slow and the CCTV camera staring at us made it impossible to begin any undressing early. She fought with the lock on her door for what seemed like an eternity. Finally she got it open and burst into the living room; we were both naked by the time we reached the bedroom stairs. I leaped on the bed and laid back; she licked her fingers and moistened her vagina and its surroundings before lowering herself onto me. I grabbed at her waist and pulled her flush to me, creating a sexual right angle. She began to move, slowly at first but the liquor soon encouraged her to become more animated. I fondled her breasts, put my fingers in her mouth and pulled at her hair. Within a few minutes we were full steam ahead and I could begin to feel the wetness of her orgasm.
Things started to become uncomfortable for me, the lager and whiskey in my stomach had embarked on a demonic dance, I could taste them both in my mouth and the room began to spin. I stopped thinking about the sex and tried to focus at a point on the ceiling; but the demonic dance continued; the lager and whiskey started in my stomach but they quickly danced up my throat and towards my mouth.
At the club I had asked for a whiskey and ice. The Spanish barman filled the glass half way with ice and poured the whiskey. I looked on as he almost filled my glass with straight whiskey. I took my glass over to the table. “What’s going on man?” I asked Zen and Tao. “They fill until you stay stop in Barcelona, there’s no measurements in this place or most bars here.” I was amazed, every drink after that was straight and full. I had met the girl a few hours later, I was dancing like a human emancipated for the first time and she was watching me from a table close to the bar. I could see her looking over and giggling. The whiskey walked me over to her, step by step. I recall little of her appearance, she was dark skinned with black hair and petite body, I’m not even 100% certain she was Spanish. We left not long after the first dance.
I threw her off me and bolted to the toilet hitting every wall on the way there. I reached the bowl just in time and collapsed in a sorry heap on the floor with my head leaned over the toilet bowl and my still erect penis looking at me with disgust. The contractions began in my stomach, causing my body to evacuate that night’s libations, but as it did it also caused contractions in my erect penis. The vomit left my mouth violently and painted the toilet bowl a golden brown colour, at the same time my contracting penis was forcing out jets of alcoholic urine which was firing directly into my face and chest. I was simultaneously vomiting and pissing on myself. The violence of the vomit prevented me from taking any evasive action, I was paralysed by the demonic dance and now I was giving myself a golden shower. Too dazed to notice and too inebriated to care I lay on the cold bathroom tiles covered in piss and sick until the room stopped spinning, my penis became flaccid and my stomach was empty.
She had fallen asleep and was completely unaware of the state that I was in. Covered in my own urine and vomit and laying naked on the floor not five feet away from a shower that could wash the evidence of my demise away, I had neither the energy nor the inclination to clean myself. I was just happy the room was no longer orbiting my head. I closed my eyes and slept heavily. The next morning I awoke with the rising of the sun. The rays warmed my face and forced me to face the day. As I stared at the ceiling I began to recall the servile adventures of the previous night. My mouth had never been so dry nor tasted so revolting, the acidic smell emanating from my face and chest was rancid and my fingers smelt like whiskey and bile. I peeled myself up from the bathroom floor, closed the door as to avoid waking the girl, turned on the shower and scrubbed my skin with every cleaning liquid I could find. I dried, dressed and sneaked out of the apartment, I took no notice of the address, I wouldn’t return, I never wanted to see that bathroom again.
I walked out of her apartment building and staggered down the street in no direction in particular. The heat of the morning and the need for water forced me to concentrate and find a taxi. When I got back to Zen’s place Tao was still sleeping, there were beer cans and joint butts everywhere, it looked like they had been up quite late, I knew that when they awoke they would have questions. I knew when they asked me I would probably tell half the story.
I awoke a few hours later. Tao and Zen were nowhere to be seen but I was not alone. The whiskey was still sloshing around in my stomach, it was causing violent stabbing pains in the side of my head and The Black Dog was staring at me from across the room:
“Good afternoon, Nicky, good night last night, my friend? Did you wear a condom? I bet you didn’t. Silly little cunt, your dick’s going to fall off now Nicky, great way to start your trip. I just feel sorry for that poor girl, she’s going to wake up and have to clean your vomit and piss from the bathroom floor, she doesn’t deserve that, Nicky, she was a nice girl. Where are Tao and Zen, Nicky? They went out and didn’t even bother to wake you up, they’re sick of you already, Nicky, my friend, you’re selfish, reckless and annoying, you probably ruined their night.”
Tao was angry with me when he returned home that evening but once I’d explained my story Tao and Zen just wanted the details, the contents of which placated their anger. I told them most of the story, but not all.
About the Author
Originally from South Shields, Lee Carrick is a thirtysomething adopted Scot. His biggest passions in life are writing and travelling, and he likes to combine the two. He has been writing poetry since he was 15, but only recently began to write fiction. He was inspired to write by Ian Banks' The Wasp Factory and Neil Gaiman's Smoke and Mirrors. The Care Home, his first novella, is a McStorytellers publication.
Lee’s full profile can be read on McVoices.
Lee’s full profile can be read on McVoices.