I loved so many of the stories you submitted, so I will most likely end up publishing at least two or three - because honestly, sharing really is caring. Among the hilarity, credit card + train toilet, “Donde esta Barcelona?” and finding oneself arrested on a business trip - I mean, really people. You kill me.

As for the very technical criteria we used for choosing a winner (I asked a neutral party to assist in the judging) it went a little something like this: What would leave me red-faced the longest? You know, like that time Jen and I were at a restaurant in Morocco and my little brush with food poisoning set in. I rushed to the bathroom, found relief, and then realized the toilet was broken. It didn’t flush. I couldn’t get out of that place quick enough.

Anyway, our winner Krystyna shared a story that, had I been in her situation, would have mortified me. Maybe I’m just particularly sensitive to being nekkid in front of strangers. But anyway, without further ado…

My most embarrassing travel moment occurred in the spring of 2006. I was traveling through Spain for my last ever spring break and also stopping in Seville to meet up with my law school classmates and professors for the remainder of our comparative constitutional law class lectures. Determined not to miss a single moment of anything that could possibly happen in the city that week, I barely slept for about 6 or 7 days. I replenished my energy with cortados at cafes in between lectures and with Red Bull in the evenings. We sampled tapas, went to flamenco concerts, visited churches, palaces, and museums, before trying to blend in with the natives during long, late-night club-hopping excursions. But, getting by with just 2-3 hours of sleep finally caught up with me and lead to that awful moment. After a fancy dinner with our hosts at the university, we all went out clubbing: students, professors, and assorted significant others. Everything was fine until we got back to our hostel around 5 in the morning.

My close friend and roommate on the trip had left the club earlier in the evening and left the door unlocked for me. After climbing the suspension-cable stairs to our 4th story room at the top of the hostel, I finally made it home to the comforts of my bed. Or, so I thought. It turns out I promptly began a naked sleepwalking adventure that managed to wake up my horrified roommate. I had been parading around our room and stairs naked, muttering to myself and looking for something. My roommate couldn’t figure out what the problem with me was since I was muttering in a foreign language - neither English nor Spanish, but my own Slavic native tongue. At first, she thought I was awake and incredibly drunk. It took her some time before she figured out I was asleep. She took out her laptop to do a google search on sleepwalkers, whether to wake them or not, and other advice. Only then did she come to my rescue. Apparently, it took her quite some time to get me back to our room and my bed before she locked the door and hid the key from me.

The next morning when I woke up naked and cocooned in my blanket, I couldn’t figure out what had happened. Why couldn’t I find my pajamas anywhere? My friend could not hold back the laughter as she recounted my naked hostel adventures to me the night before. Thank goodness we were checking out that day and leaving the city, because she wouldn’t tell me how many people got to see me in all my naked glory. Too bad she didn’t feel similarly constrained when she told all our classmates and professors of that nekkid nighttime prowl.

Thursday, March 27, 2008 | stories