Ixelles Via Delirium Tremens

Don't you hate when a family trip to Brussels evolves into a nightmare of drama and lack of self control after, ahm, let's say five 11% beers?

I do.

Miguel who can't speak french (not to talk about flemish) got lost all drunk and enraged at three AM, his sister Maria cried for about half an hour because she had just had an ugly fight with him, our cousin Marta cried bitterly because she was sure her camera had been stolen but it was in Marina's purse who was banging some flemish belgian in the bathroom, both of them drunk, totally unaware of the family chaos. And there was me, all sober, trying to pull them all together again to go on a quest to find Miguel.

At least I gotta say it was funny when Marina got out the bathroom, bruises all over her body for she's got far too much passion for such a small toilet. It was funny as well seeing her falling off a bench because she was totally wasted. And it was kinda useful that Marta thought her camera had been stolen because in revenge she stole about six packets of cigarettes so we all smoked for free for the next two days or so. And it was cool when Miguel found a cuban immigrant who lent him his cell phone to call us so we could find him. And it was amazing, incredibly awesome when I sneaked into bed and that damn night was finally over.

Anyway, Brussels rocks!