In Mallorca, shaving is a team sport. Especially the shoulders.
How time flies, sexy, well toned readers. Just one month ago I was in the DC area, spending a productive night milking my Jersey Eye (an occasional side effect of last year´s eye surgery. What eye surgery, you ask? Read about it here!).
And now, here I am. Wrapping up my last month in delicious, blue sky´d, mostly topless Mallorca. I will be graduating from my Educational Leadership program tomorrow, the culminating pinnacle of three long years of blood, sweat, and beers. For all my hard work I will be receiving an MA (my second one, no big deal) in Educational Leadership and a shiny certification which will allow me to work in an administrative positions at whatever school is broad minded enough to handle my thunder.
It´s been a great program- I have learned much, met some wonderful people (if I had a yearbook there would be so many"stay in touch" smiley face notes) and had some of the best times one can have whilst having your shorts stolen on the beach at 3 am. I will miss The Office Bar for sure, and of course . . .
Cheap beer and terrible lighting. Kind of like Unitarianism.
Rockefeller´s is a great club. I will have fond memories of rocking the stage until 5am, and being surrounded by absurdly energetic European tourists. Great times, and falling down the stairs become a rite of passage, especially after the second time. And speaking of clubs, Fraggle Rock was great. Last night I got to see some awesome music with a solid group of friends, some of whom had never heard death metal before, which is always interesting. Explaining the physics of windmill headbanging reminded me of why I got into education. That, and the free pens.
I´ll miss the beaches too. Beautiful, free, and sunny 90% of the time. Almost perfect. My apartment was great, and being right by the ocean helped- the cultural clashes which ensued can best be summed up by this sign, located next to the stairwell:
The man trying to keep us down again . . .
So, this is goodbye, Mallorca. At least for now. You have treated me well, given me great memories, and helped me to make lifelong (hopefully) friendships. I was able to introduce people to the wonders of crazy death metal rage and fish liquor. They, in turn, showed me Sangria, Handball, topless philosophical conversations, and Escalope. I only threw up once, and came through the program with a minimal amount of bruising or chafing. All in all, well worth the time, money, and expanding beer belly.
So tomorrow night I will walk with my fellows (I get to give the graduation speech . . . hee hee), followed by kick ass dance party action (I promised a friend a powerslide exhibition that will surely change lives) and then, two days later, off to Wacken! Good thing I have built up my heavy metal tan, because it will surely be tested. I cannot wait to post some photos of drunken metal rage. These are much like drunken Mallorca rage, but with less tapas and more spiky bits. Should be awesome.
Until I see you again, Mallorca- keep it greasy.