A Post I Probably Shouldn´t Post Due to Possible (Though Improbable) Legal Repercussions

Yesterday was tuesday for all of you who are currently out of contact with the world (that would be you Eddie), and after our grammar class, which runs from 7-9, several adventurers and myself decided to have some fun. We started off the night at our favorite tapas bar and ordered two jars of sangria. Remember that there were 4 of us, so we really had about a half jar of sangria each, which is not a whole lot, but enough to impair judgement to some extent--and more importantly, enough for us to decide that we wanted to get wasted--which we did, kind of.

After Tapas we went to another favorite bar called Habana Club, where they serve zombies, which if you don´t know, are the most alcoholic drink you can buy without just straight up asking for a bottle. We each had one and were well on our way to anebriation, when we happened to meet an interesting looking cuban with some interesting promises--that is to say he was drug dealer. Several of the more adventurous of our already adventurous group decided to talk to him and perhaps realize a transaction. He sat down and began to chat, first in english then in spanish as soon as he realized that we spoke the language. He joked and laughed and reminisced about Cuba and how much he liked Madrid: we got comfortable with his presence. Then we started talking about rent prices, did a red flag go off in any of our minds? nope, becasue we are/were idiot americans. Then he changed tactics, and began to sketch out the girls of our group with some whispering, exorbitant amounts of touching, and some promises, "oh don´t worry, i´ll just sleep on the couch." It was now or never, becasue at that point we wanted him to leave but also wanted to have fun so we entered into the buyout, payed him his money and he left supposedly to go get things.

Did he return? of course not, and we were taught a hard lesson of street. actually, we were just taught how big of idiot´s we all were for trusting someone like that and we all left sober and pissed off. However, irony strikes hardest when you least expect it, and on my walk home I smelled a certain aroma that only pounded home our lesson.