Wait... that's soooo 90210. And we're over here in 08017, so I guess it's a bit off. Nonetheless...
FRENCHY GRADUATES! Er, graduated. He did it!
Unfortunately, after two or three absolutely beautiful sunny weeks here in Barcelona, a torrential downpour started early Friday morning and didn't let up until Sunday, by which time the IESE graduation festivities were over and most peoples' visiting families had headed back home.
Friday I had an all-day strategy meeting, but fortunately my office is near Calatrava and Frenchy was kind enough to bring my dress there so I could stop by after work and do a Superman without needing a telephone booth. I raced up there on my moto in the driving rain, thankful that I'd stashed a hairdryer in the bag with my dress. Ditched the bike, ran into the apartment, and flicked on the lights.... Uhhh no power. And just as I was saying, "What the..." out loud, the girlfriends of two of Frenchy's roommates appeared. I hadn't even realized anyone was home, and of course they thought some sort of crazy person had been launched into the apartment.
So we resigned ourselves to looking like drowned rats, did the best we could with our hair and makeup, and dashed back out to find a taxi. Calling cab companies was futile - after waiting on hold for several minutes, you'd finally just get a click and a dial tone. So we stood outside in the rain, strategically placed around a major intersection, and finally found a taxi. AFTER AN HOUR. Fortunately, no photos exist to document how I looked at that point.
I was just so happy to finally be in a taxi on my way to IESE because around that time I was seriously starting to worry that I'd miss graduation altogether. But after making it through a massive traffic jam (Barcelona residents are worse than Southern Californians when it comes to driving in the rain: "OH. MY. GOD. THERE IS WATER COMING OUT OF THE SKYYYYY!") I found Frenchy's family and their excellent seats and dripped water all over them. I was just so happy to be inside.
And then I was so happy to see Frenchy happily strolling down the aisle with the rest of the class of 2008, all dressed like priests just as we were last year. Then his mother leaned over to me and said in French, "He's turning into an American! Look! He's chewing gum!" I was initially crestfallen. Indeed, Frenchy was just so happy to be there with all his friends in the midst of that celebration he was chewing his gum quite ferociously... But hey I didn't teach him that. I DID, however, teach him how to say "dude" like a proper Californian, in three to four syllables: du-u-u-uuuuude! And that's something I'll proudly take credit for!