Part 11: Lagos

I didn’t realize that the Portuguese town of Lagos was the MTV/Arizona-State-University-Spring-Break-Edition of Cancun, until I walked in a bar and was offered a power hour that consisted of burger paired with 60 minutes of unlimited boozing.

I turned the Power Hour promo down and told the waitress that a burger sans alcohol poisoning would be OK. Then I stared at my surroundings and saw a chalkboard for the World Series of Baseball with tally marks for a handful of different countries. I was perplexed because I didn’t realize the World Baseball Classic was going on.

Then I remembered it wasn’t. Each tally represented that a patron who had completed a homerun: pounding four shots and a beer that are placed on a laminated paper baseball field.

Yet in between a ton of Brit-pop songs, the restaurant played one Young Jeezy song, which allowed me to find some inner peace and finish my burger and wedges (not bad, actually).

Still Lagos is much prettier than Cancun. The beaches are insanely beautiful. Lagos is also where the first African slaves were brought to Europe, which doesn’t fit my argument for it being better than Cancun, but I didn’t know where else to put that sentence. Best of all it’s in Europe, meaning topless beaches allow you to see bare chests without having to offer up a can of Bud Light or whatever college girls take their tops off for these days.