Liam Neeson, where art thou?

If Liam Neeson were my father, he would kick my ass for temporarily forgetting all of the lessons he would have taught me in 'Taken' or in his parenting. 

Cuz let's face it, Liam Neeson would obviously make a kick-ass parent. 

He's Liam Neeson. [no offense intended to my parents who taught me the same lessons, I just don't fear as intense of an ass-kicking from them as from Mr.Neeson. if you've met my parents, you'd understand.] 

It all started when we landed in Barcelona. 

At midnight. 

With absolutely no idea how exactly to get into the city other than a taxi. 

Which we can't find. 

And then a friendly man asks us if we're from Copenhagen and we start walking and talking with him and he asks us if we wanted to share a cab ride.

If you've seen 'Taken,' this is how it alllll starts. 

So getting in the cab with him probably wasn't our smartest decision. 

But he did get us to our street...and then offer to walk us to our hostel...but that, THAT is where we drew the line. 

We even made sure he walked away before we headed down our street. 

But that was after his living-in-Copenhagen-and-just-moving-to-Spain-but-still-speaks-fluent-Spanish-and-knows-the-streets-of-Barcelona-really-well story skeezed us out. 

Liam Neeson would not be happy. 

Or our parents for that matter. 

Oops. 

So we arrive at the street our hostel is located off of, which, by the way, our friendly cab-sharing friend informed us was a bit on the sketchy side. 

An understatement, as it turns out. 

And as the three of us walked down the street, carrying our luggage and wearily eyeing all the obscenely drunk Spanish men, we happened across a set of barred doors with an intensely creepy foyer area. 

Our hostel. 

We go up the stairs that my only reference for comparison belongs in the lair of the creepy-joker guy from the Saw movies that I can't actually sit through because they horrify me. 

The actual lobby of the hostel presents itself in a pseudo-clean manner, but unfortunately for us the man checking us in was watching a spanish horror movie turned all the way, so the accompaniment to our check-in was screaming and the freaky music soundtrack. 

We prayed that the beds were clean, we're semi-positive that they were. 

We prayed that the bathrooms were clean, we're one-hundred percent positive that they weren't. 

We peed together. 

We waited for each other in the shower because being in that room by yourself was just not okay. 

Not okay. 

My grandmother would not approve. 

And neither would Liam. 

So now that our trip officially started with some choice points from the list of 'Things College Girls in Europe Probably Shouldn't Do Alone'...

We covered riding in cabs with strangers. 

We've gone over staying in sketchy hostels. 

We could probably add 'end a pub crawl in a club by the water in Lisbon without any idea as to where our hostel is' to the list....

Or getting to the airport one hour before our flight leaves, but getting to the wrong terminal, getting stuck in the check-in line, hauling ass through the 'Last Minute Check-In' line and sprinting through the airport to get to Lisbon...

My favorite might be Samantha and I getting in a cab to take us back to the hostel after the pub crawl and telling the driver that we had 3.70euro between the two of us and could he please 'just take us as close to the square as you can get us on this budget.' 

He was nice enough to take us the whole way to the square....after suggesting we pay him in a different way and then driving down the wrong street in the direction of the ocean....

And of course there was the infamous oversized wallet in a small bag that was pickpocketed. 

All in all I'd saw that we managed to embody a multitude of the traveling college girl stereotypes; including, but not limited to having strangers pay our entire 50euro bar tab at a shots bar. [sidebar: these kids told us they were 21 and attending college in California. They were maybe 18, from 'SoCal', kept saying things like 'that's real legit' or 'dats cool,' and at the bar with their uncle. We ignored them most of the night while they stood behind us talking about how impressed they were that we were taking shots. When we told them we were leaving, they told us that ladies never pay for their own drinks, picked up our tab, and we high-tailed it outta there as soon as their uncle started calling them idiots for dropping that much euro on us. WHAT UP HIGH SCHOOLERS. No shame.]

These are just the snippits of those moments that parents are most proud of when they hear about their child's spring break adventures. 

And since I am unbelievably tired from spending the night in the Milan airport, this pride-inducing, wrath-of-Liam-Neeson-provoking moments are all I'm going divulge. 

For now. 

My apologies to both Liam and my parents. 

3:40pm USA 

9:40pm Denmark