There was a call for submissions on crappy things that have happened to people, like worst dates, worst Christmas, etc., so I submitted this silly little story about the Worst Birthday Ever.
Spending my birthday alone would never be my first choice for kicks but my original travel plans fell through which led me to plan B, where I ended up alone in Barcelona. Not too shabby all things considered. To make the best of it, I made plans to treat myself to a flamenco/dinner show. I got all dressed up, sporting strappy slut pumps and red lipstick and departed from the hotel feeling pretty confident considering this was my last birthday in my thirties. I took the metro feeling good about still being able to get around in a foreign city on my own, and was reading my city map closely as I got off at my stop and started toward the street. This became my lesson that I should stick to single tasks because in studying the map too closely, I made my grand entrance at street level by missing a step and going straight down like an old lady in hooker shoes. Two teenage boys who had sat there trying to look cool smoking their cigarettes jumped up to assist my pathetic rear end up off of the pavement. I had scraped my left knee so bad that I had a little bit of blood starting to run down my leg. I then made my way to the flamenco show which I was late to considering I had to spend time wiping blood off my knee, and they wouldn’t let me enter, telling me to come back the next day. There went the birthday show and dinner. I took this all as a sign from somebody that I should just grab some food and go into hiding for the night so after searching for any uncrowded restaurant on a Saturday night in Barcelona, I proceeded to go to the McDonald’s that was next to my hotel. Gee, wasn’t I supposed to be having paella? Needless to say, I spent my 39th birthday in a cheap hotel, watching CNN, eating an El Mac, Fritas Grande, and a Coca. My birthday in Spain….one I’ll never forget.