I would like to tell you this is a once-in-a-blue-moon type of affair, but that would be a lie of tremendous proportions. However, the unknown setting that I now find myself in is a new wrinkle to this usual ordeal. At least when I pass out drunk back home I find myself in my own house or on my buddies’ couch. (Shoutout to Uber!) But to have your morning hangover begin with light breaking through unfamiliar curtains, only to realize that you don’t recognize anything in the entire room, is a different phenomenon entirely. Do I have a drinking problem you ask? That would probably depend on who you’re asking. For example if you asked me, I would say no. Ask anyone else and you might get a different response. We’ll touch on that later. (Not later in this story later, but later in my life later, sorry to disappoint.) For now I'll [for better or worse] continue to be a shithead of a 25-year-old with approximately 51% of his life put together, just enough to where I can mostly convince people that don’t know me I'm doing alright for myself. Sorry for the side tangent, let's get back to the situation at hand.

At least the room itself is nice. I do think I would be a little more worried if I’d awoken in a seedy motel room, complete with unidentifiable stains, questionable odors, and multiple arguments coming from what sounds like just the other side of my door. Instead, I find myself in a king-sized canopy bed, mosaic-tiled balcony with the softest of breezes hitting my face, and is that… lavender?? Man, how in the world did I end up in the lap of luxury? I don’t even speak Spanish so there’s no way I smooth talked my way here from the bar last night, verdad?

Alright time to sit up. Wallet – check. Keys – check. Phone – check. I even have my Chapstick! Wow, am I good or what! I’m naked too. Did I really pull off the impossible last night?? The only question is with who? Do I wait to find out, or chalk this up as a win and get the hell out of here?

[Footsteps outside the door.]

Shit shit shit… ACT NORMAL. Alright here it goes let’s face her. Wait, what if it’s a him? Or a they?

[Door knob turns.]

FUCK!! Pretending to be asleep? That’s what you went with you coward?

[Bathroom door opens, shower turns on.]

PHEW, gives me 10 minutes to plan my escape. Should I stay and face them? Probably. Am I? Who’re we kidding, I’m gonna bail. Think stealth, pure stealth. Just like back in high school when you had to sneak out to get drunk with your friends. Hmmm, maybe there’s a pattern here? Maybe you need to revisit the whole drinking problem mentioned earlier. Geez, not now, worry about that later, gotta stay focused.

[Puts on clothes, creeps to door.]

I made it! Hasta la vista to my Mexican Fairytale/Nightmare.

[Phone rings in bathroom.]

“Hola chica! Que Pasa?”

Hold up, that’s a girl’s voice. Slow down a second what’s she saying.

“Fui al bar, y conoci un chico muuuuuyyyy guapo.”

Alright, some spanish I don’t understand and a very handsome boy. Wait… Am I the

handsome boy?? She’s talking about me! No way you’re leaving now. Open that door. OPEN THAT DOOR YOU HANDSOME IDIOT!

[Opens bathroom door]

“Adios chica.”

[Hangs up phone.]

"Beunos dias chico."

The rest of this story has been redacted due to inappropriate content.

Snow is like a doomed relationship. At first everything is pure and beautiful, any blemishes quickly covered with fresh fallen powder. The snowfall subsides, and what was just a potentially joyous future becomes filled with activities that aren't as fun as remembered. Temperatures rise and the snow is no more.