Night Three: Bev, meet Blago. Blago, meet Bev.
Backstory: I was visiting Magda, my best friend from college, in Germany.
A few years back, I took my first trip off the continent of North America and ventured to the countries of Iceland, Germany, France, Switzerland, and Croatia. It was an absolutely epic trip and I’m dying to get back to Europe in the coming years. I was able to take the trip because my best friend from college was living in Germany at the time and I cut a lot of lodging costs (shoutout to Magda and her hubby for putting up with me).
You’d be surprised, but I didn’t really do too much “partying” while in Europe. Magda had a toddler at the time, I wanted to remember my trip, we often were getting up early to sightsee the next day, etc.
But I do have one defining moment of the trip, and, really, of my life from this excursion. On one of my last nights there, Magda and I walked down to the Belgian bar near her house and hung out just the two of us over Belgian beers. The bartender that night was a Bulgarian named Blago, and the bar happened to have a punch card where if you drank ten beers, you got the eleventh free. Well, Magda and I went through that punch card that night, and Blago was pretty impressed with us (Belgian beers ain’t no punk). And when I say, “Magda and I went through that punch card that night,” I really mean I did. I’m pretty sure Magda had one beer and I had the remaining nine.
Bev made a lasting impression on Blago, who waited until I went to the bathroom, then uttered these sweet words to Magda: “Your friend… she can drink.”
And that’s the night I was complimented on my tolerance by a Bulgarian bartender in a Belgian bar.
-Bev
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