European Night Life

Americans Need to Take Notes

European Night-Life has evolved into a culture all its own. It goes beyond the urge to drink as many beers or invent childhood games involving quarters, cups, or ping pong balls. Part ritual, part catharsis, with a little bit of social networking and group therapy, European nightlife rejuvenates the mind, body, and soul. Americans take note pacing yourself and enjoying the company of others is the foundation of European culture. So sit back and relax; changing your thoughts about Night-Life may make you live longer, stay healthier, and improve your mental health.

First, in America, every teenager and young adult's goal when planning a night out on the town is alcohol. What bar to visit, what kind of shots we can have, and who can outlast the group in the number of shots, beer, or cocktails. It’s the last man (or woman) standing upright at the night's end. Does anyone remember what happened at closing time…you win.

Disclaimer to all you designated drivers in America. I know you are the hapless wit who doesn’t go out for the sheer goal of getting drunk. Unfortunately, you are left with the task of a kindergarten teacher, who has the inglorious task of keeping the drunken crew of children safe. That means preventing your tipsy friend from walking off with a nameless beau and getting knocked up before sunrise. And let us not forget the opinionated college boy who starts lecturing off the deep end between politics and particle physics and ends up in a brawl with other patrons and ultimately beaten to near death by the barroom bouncer. Alas, your efforts preventing the sloshed jock from making a fool of himself by setting himself on fire with a ridiculous cocktail of 120 proof set afire with a trail of liquor down the length of the bar is tested time and time.

Your European genes are dominant, and you are more likely to return to the motherland as a backpacker during the summer holiday. Europe extends a welcome to you with open arms as you intern across Europe at every Bistro and every Taverna.

My favorite story as a designated driver is about Jack. Jack was a good-looking jock with long dirty-blonde hair and shoulders as big as a pickup truck. He had a soft smile that caused both his cheeks to dimple. Girls just melted right before him the instant he smiled.

Jack stood before the bar, trying to impress a group of young ladies. In particular, one blue-eyed blond in a frilly red tube top. Jack lined up a row of whiskey sour shots and a cold bottle of beer at the end of the row. Trying to impress the blue-eyed blonde, he haplessly stared at her as she leaned against the bar showing off her backside tightly wrapped by her capri-style blue jeans. He raced down the row of shots and finished the beer bottle faster than the other guys in the race, except for one small hiccup. The bartender popped the bottle cap in one of the drinks and he swallowed the bottle cap with one of the glasses of whiskey soar. We were in a small college town one hundred miles from the nearest medical center. Jack ends up in the back of an ambulance in need of medical attention, because the bottle cap was stuck in his esophagus and was causing him a considerable amount of discomfort. He couldn’t swallow anything. The drop-dead gorgeous blue-eyed blond vixen suddenly felt compelled to be Jack’s angel of mercy and took the ambulance ride with him. They had never met before that night! As the story goes, I kid you not. Jack and Jill go down the highway to fetch a cap o’ beer. Doc scopes him down, and fetches the cap, and Jill nurses her new boyfriend after that. Imagine a smoking-hot supermodel getting in the ambulance with a guy she just met in a bar. They get married a year later. I wish I had his luck.

In Europe, the goal is to socialize. The evening starts late at the cafe. Dinner starts at nine, and that’s early. Many prefer to dine more like ten o’clock in the evening. The body is primed with caffeinated beverages. Rounds start with frappes, cappuccinos, and Frappuccinos. Some prefer tried and true Greek coffee. Sipping the hot thick slur slowly, trying to slowly release the caffeine into one's bloodstream and maximize the duration of the stimulant well beyond the late night and into the wee hours of early sunrise.

The waiter brings to the table the staples, freshly baked and steaming hot from the oven, rustic bread accompanied with extra virgin olive oil. Everyone decides on their favorite appetizer and orders a variety to satisfy everyone’s cravings. Every country has its version. In Spain, they are called tapas. Salads, bite-size morsels of fresh octopus, olives, and a variety of hearty cheeses, freshly made dips, like humus and Tsatsiki, all dolloped with fresh herbs and olive oil. And, of course, one more plate arrives doled with savory cuts of salami and sausages. No one starts drinking on an empty stomach. Once the dishes are brought to the table, everyone digs in.

Faces lean forward, sputtering their topic of interest, frantically making hand jesters to emphasize certain points of their story. A couple of minutes are spent on the latest gossip about the rich and famous, a few snippets on who is serious and who just broke up, and of course, who was caught cheating with who—boisterous and loud one minute, shock and awe in disbelief the next. Hours wane away in the cafe keeping everyone abreast about the latest and greatest news bits from within their circle. No need for Tik-Tok, Instagram, or Facebook. It’s all divulged here. Loud enough for the other group sitting two meters away to hear. But it ultimately ends with a discussion on where the gang goes from here and which nightclubs we shall hit tonight. Wait, guys, its only 1:30 AM; sit back and relax. It’s too early for the nightclubs. Now everyone is ordering a beer or a glass of wine. This is the European style of pre-gaming. No rush. We have plenty of time; the night is still young.

After a few sips, the game plan is set. We will hit this bar first. The bar starts filling up earlier than most. We will spend an hour or so there first, have a drink or two at most. But we will finish our night at our favorite night spot. Here we will dance like crazy. Let the music possess us, take over our bodies. Close your eyes and empty your mind. Lose yourself to the pounding beat of the bass. Dance. Keep on dancing well beyond the moment when you start glowing. Never mind the occasional bump from other people on the dance floor. This is the moment you want never to end when you're dancing on the dance floor without a care. This is where you feel a tap on your shoulder, a wave goodbye from a few couples within your group. The couples go to their respective homes to finish their dance moves privately. You know, before the couple realizes they will eventually marry in the not-too-distant future. The only ones left on the dance floor are the single and unattached. The single ladies are envious of their dating girlfriends. They found someone that is a good catch. The single guys start looking around, hoping to find their supermodel dream girl. But deep down, they don’t want to be lonely. The guys grow tired going home alone.

Without realizing what has happened, you pull yourself together, forget about going home, return to the old cafe and have a morning coffee and glaze the menu for something to eat for breakfast. You look at your watch and curse yourself for staying out too late. You drink your coffee, knowing you have an hour left before showing up for work. But who cares? When you have friends to share your nights with, building memories upon memories, life becomes grand. You look across the table next to yours and recognize the girl from the nightclub last night. She was the dark-haired dancing siren with ruby red lips, lined in a simple, slender black dress. Did she notice me staring at her while she danced last night? Does it matter. You raise your cup of coffee and you say, “It’s wonderful to have a cup of coffee with a beautiful girl in the morning.”

You don’t care if she gives you a dirty look; you’re happy that you had a wonderful night with your friends. To your surprise, she gets up and sits beside you. And she starts talking to you. You pick up your cup of coffee and think, “Life is grand.” And you look deep into her eyes and smile.