It’s that time again, where you share a little bit too much about yourself with thousands of strangers.  To read about everyone else’s horror stories, go to LiLu’s TMI Thursday page.  🙂

During the summer of 2004, I studied abroad for 7 weeks in south France.  I made some awesome friends and got to visit some really cool places.  The best part about the trip was that we were a 20-minute bus ride from the beach and that we were in a college city.  There were tons of bars and clubs in the area, so we always had a place to go.

One night toward the end of our trip, our group decided to go bar hopping.  I met up with my friend CoLo at her house because she lived in town, then we headed out to join the rest of the group.  We started our evening with mojitos at a place called Cubanitos. We spent a few hours there, then decided to head somewhere new.

On our way to our next locale, we decided to stop at the grocery store to buy a couple of bottles of champagne.  We all passed the bottle around, sitting on the steps of the church in the square.  Only in Europe could you do that without getting arrested!

After we downed the champagne, we headed to a bar called Barbarous (I’m rusty on my french spelling capabilities) which means Redbeard.  It was like a pirate ship, and it was dark and crowded once you walked down the stairs to get into the bar.

We were hanging out at the bar, ordering beers, when we noticed that the bartender had left a bottle of liquor sitting within our reach.  CoLo and I looked at each other, nodded, and she grabbed the bottle.  We made a bee-line to the bathroom to hide out for a moment, then we reemerged to get some glasses and ice so we could drink out booty (arrrh).

The thing is, it wasn’t ordinary liquor.  This bar was known for soaking fruits in rum to infuse the rum with flavor.  Then you poured it over ice and sipped on it.  Normally a table would share the bottle – FYI it wasn’t a huge bottle, it was tall and skinny – but CoLo and I decided to just share it between the 2 of us.  We were so excited, until we tried it.  We realized we’d grabbed a rhubarb-flavored bottle.  It wasn’t the best, but we drank it anyway.

After we polished off the bottle, it was probably after 2 a.m.  That didn’t stop us, and we ventured to some type of club, where we ran into our waiter from Cubanito.  He insisted we hang out with him for a while, so we did.  He bought our drinks, we laughed and danced.  It was a lot of fun.

Around 4 a.m., we decided to call it a night.  CoLo and I were stumbling through the fairly deserted town, giggling and being stupid.  We were upset because there was nowhere to get any late night food.  As we were bitching, I suddenly realized that I had to pee.  Really, really bad.  So bad it was hard to walk, and we probably still had about 10 minutes to go before we got to her place.

So I did what any drunk girl would do in my dire situation.  I copped a squat by the side of some hundred year old building and did my business.  Except it wasn’t really going as planned.  The streets were old, so they were really smooth stone.  And when you pee on them, it causes it to splash back up on your feet (eww, I know).  I was desperately trying to avoid the stream bounceback, but it was not working.  My constant shifting to avoid the stream, literally led to me accidentally peeing on my feet a little.

In our drunken state, CoLo and I found this extremely hilarious, and we couldn’t stop laughing.  I ended up having to trudge back to her house in pissed on flip flops, which I wasn’t too happy about.  I’m pretty sure no one saw me though, so that’s always a good thing!

And the next day, we had the worst hangovers ever.  We could hardly move it was that bad.