For the past 3 weeks, I’ve basically been living in constant fear of my cell phone. Because whenever it rings there are only two things that can happen: either Comcast is hunting me down for the cable bill, or worse, Dave Robb is calling me with another stupid assignment. “Book this flight. Check that bus schedule. Email your friend. Go on Skype. Wake up. Get the fuck out of bed.” Shit just wouldn’t stop.
The good news, though, is that we’re finally done planning. Dusseldorf. Odense. Copenhagen. Amsterdam. Prague. Munich. Rome. Madrid. Bilbao. Barcelona. The flights are all in order. The hostels are booked. Cole World is on the iPod. And I bought these shoes that are so European-looking, even Calvin would probably think twice before trying them on.
Anyway, I guess now would be an appropriate time to address all the rumors that have been swirling around over the past couple months. It’s true. I’m not coming back to the U.S. at the end of this little adventure. When Dave gets on that Aer Lingus flight in mid-November, he will be all by himself.
No, seriously. I’ve played it out in my head like 1000 times, and it always ends the same way. I meet this girl at a club in Barcelona. We enjoy a wonderful evening together, and the next day she introduces me to her father, who just so happens to be a wealthy businessman. He offers me a job and Isabella begs me to stay. But I have to decline. I try to let her down as gently as possible, which is difficult for me because I don’t exactly put the “b” in subtle. “Isabella, mi amor. No puedo. Tengo un blog muy famoso en los estados unidos. Se llama albermarleallstars.blogspot.com. No podrias entender. Lo siento.”
Obviously, though, this vision doesn’t end there. I start seriously weighing my options more and more. Realistically, I could continue writing the blog from Spain. Sure, the cast of characters would change, but we could make it work. Also, my mom would probably miss me, but it’s no secret that I’m her third favorite child, so that’s not really a huge concern either. Maybe if it were Julie or Dan. But I doubt she would come chasing after me.
Once I make my decision, I finally work up the courage to tell Dave that I’m going to stay in Barcelona. He pretends to be disappointed, even though deep down he’s relieved that he’ll never have to deal with me on the basketball court ever again. But he still handles the entire situation with class. First class, all the way. We hug it out one last time, and he asks if there’s one last thing I want to tell the gang back home. Nah, man. They know I love them. And we turn around and go our separate ways…“Actually, Dave. There is one thing. Could you have someone finish my Words with Friends game with Sonya? I’ve built up like a 103-point lead and it would a shame if I lost because of a forfeit. Thanks, man.”
