"NATO?"

Last night at a British style pub called the spring brothers, the fellow Spartans I went out with were arguing with a 17 year old while I was being dazzled by their slightly older friend from Sweden. Although he ranted mostly about flying UK jets and his excitement of being in the British Army, I paid more attention to his arm around me and the hand that kept nudging me closer. Pretending to care about G force was the least I could do. Freddy although didn't seem to mind my nationality was rather annoyed that his name appeared on a list that one day may go to Afghanistan, "why does me from some shit country have to risk my life for your war." After reminding him that it was not my war and that Sweden wasn't a shit country. "NATO?" I responded in a joking about a non-joking matter kind of way. I could hear the baby Aussie making himself feel better by making fun of my American friends. "Who's the President of Australia?," or "Whys your drinking age so high?" was the best he could summit up for insults. Breaking away from the powder blue eyes of my new friend, I asked why they were fighting with a child, a comment the rude one did not take much liking to. Our strange post-bar street conversation ended after the yougnin offended a touch to far. I think it was a whip at Obama that put my friends over the edge, but who knows really. As our group went one way and Freddy's another he grabs my hand, kissed me and wished me goodnight on the cobblestone narrow street of old town. It wasn't until this morning on my ride down to the Saturday market did I realize with contentment that I'd probably never see him again, I had a fun night. Now this market is some bizzar mix of street fair and fruit stands. With nutella filled Churro in hand I watched a gypsy dance alone to a Peruvian flute band while eating yogurt, and a girl play a drum set in a jail outfit equipped with hand cuffs, a noose and bunny ears. (seriously) Maybe my mind was to busy processing and absorbing to realize that a massive amount of warm nutella had relocated itself onto my beige cardigan. Classic move for me really. I used one of the many beautiful fountains and attempted to wash it off to no avail and figured my choco stain was my Q to head home. The tram zoomed me away.