"GETTING RETARDED" IN SICILY

Whilst abroad, there seems to always be that one tourist, or group of tourists, that reminds me why we Americans have the reputation that we do. That group here happens to be from Texas, studying at the same University as my group. When I meet people they say, "Ohhh, you're from Texas." And I quickly clarify, "Not with that group." 

About a week ago I was at a bar with several other girls, and he stumbled up, wearing kaki pants and a light blue polo with the collar popped. 

"How's it goin'?" he bellowed. 

"Is this the first bar y'all have been to tonight?... That sucks! This is like our third one! We've been taking so many shots. It's my birthday. LET'S GET RETARDED!"

He goes on to explain that he's turning 25, so he's getting drunk to forget how "old" he is, to which Lauren responds calmly. "I'm 25." Now people at tables near us are listening in, and they laugh uncontrollably at the exchange. 

Realizing that his efforts are lost after that comment, he leaves saying, "We're gonna have a party at my apartment after this... Well, get drunk for me."

In his defense, this was one of the most quoted conversations of the trip to date. He is like our mascot, in a way. We're always thrilled to see him strolling the picturesque streets of Ortigia, standing out like a true Texan. We pride ourselves on blending in much more, but I'm sure we're just as bad in our own way: a pack of foreign photographers ravaging the town, making the same photographs as everyone else, claiming them as something of our own. 

But at least we're not, you know, getting retarded.