Cinco de Mayo is another foreign holiday the Americans have stolen for an excuse to drink and party. But who's complaining?
Like a good American girl I went out Thursday night to celebrate. I met Ashleigh and Lien at André Leroy, and as I crossed the street they started quickly in my direction.
"What are you-"
"Just go. There's a homeless person following us. This is such bullshit." Lien said.
Dressed in miniskirts and heels, we walked to a parc where we met some of our other friends. We drank Desperado Reds and watched some crazy homeless woman beat her dog. Then we walked to a bowling alley and met up with the Hispanic students and some French kids. They bought us drinks. Some rich guy bought everyone a round of tequila shots (1, 2, 3 shots...okay, I have an exam at 8 AM). Fuck it, Alex knew some French girl and she invited us to her apartment on Bressigny, which was crowded with people.
At the apartment, the Hispanic kids ate kebabs and sang in Spanish. Adrianne and I felt left out so we talked with the French kids in a tiny hallway. We sat, drank wine, and talked to Simon, a new friend. Adrianne and I spoke French the entire night, and it felt so natural. I didn't notice we were doing it until Simon switched to English and I got confused. I felt so accomplished to communicate without difficulty in another language. I even used some French slang to describe an ex-boyfriend.
At 3:15 Simon walked us downstairs and Ashleigh, barefoot, Adrianne, and I split a cab. I took a shower and got to bed at 4 AM, woke up at 6:40 for my exam, which I aced. All I do is win in Europe.