Photo by Ben30 / CC BY-SA 2.0
I lay on Barceloneta Beach on a cloudless day, the sun shining on my face and a gentle wind blowing across the Spanish (or perhaps Catalonian) sand. As the waves came in, I found myself drifting from Barcelona to Philadelphia, thinking of my friends back home. I had already made my way through my first bottle of wine and was reaching for my second bottle when I was hit with a profound sense of FOMO like none I had ever experienced. My mind flooded with confusion and despair like an existential thirteenth floor of Rodin.
Sure, I was in one of the most beautiful places in the world, surrounded by wonderful people, delicious food, and exquisite art, but my friends are probably in their apartment pounding Yuenglings that they stole from a frat party last week.
Suddenly, my phone started buzzing with GroupMe messages about my friends— for as long as I can call them that before they forget about me entirely— organizing a trip to Ken's Seafood tonight. What the fuck.Read the Full Article