Oceans Crossed and Lessons Learned

I'm guessing the clipboard guy just told everyone we're done for today because he starts packing up the volleyballs. All the volleyballers start heading down the beach to the water and start swimming.
"Aren't you coming Sammy?" Simone asks me, motioning to the water.
"No, I'm gonna head home." I say grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
"Uhh okay." she says uneasily as I head up the road.

It takes me half an hour to walk to my uncle's house from the beach. I'm tired as hell but the incentive of going to a concert keeps me going.

"Hey, we have to leave in fifteen minutes." Mathieu calls at me as I head up the stairs.
"Yeah, I just need to shower."
"I'm leaving in fifteen minutes, with or without you!" he says just as I close the door to my room. My movements are as if I'm on fast-forward. I shower, get dressed, tie my hair and head down the stairs in like two seconds.

"Wow, girls can actually be ready in less than ten minutes?" Mathieu laughs.
"Damn right." I say slightly out of breath.

"Did you two eat something?" Aunt Monique asks us from the kitchen.
"Its only five thirty." I say glancing at my watch.
"We'll eat in the city." Mathieu says, half out the front door.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, yeah." Mathieu says ushering me out the door, "We still have to pick up my friends."

We drive in the direction away from the beach, through the main part of town until we get to a house were three people, two guys and a girl, around Mathieu's age are standing around.
"Hello pretty lady and welcome to France." one of the guys says to me as the three of them clamber into the backseat.
"Ferme ta guelle." Mathieu says smacking at him, "Uhh Sammy, these are my friends, Jean-Claude, Isabelle and Nicholas." Nicholas being the one man French welcoming crew.
"Hi, nice to meet you." I say craning my neck to see them as Mathieu guns the engine.

"Don't worry about Nick, he is a retard." Isabelle says with almost no accent.
"You're English is really good."
"Thanks, I'm majoring in languages." she says shrugging.
"I can spick english too." Nick boasts, but his accent is thick, "I learnt from watching American TV."
"Which also explains why he's vraiment very stupid." Jean-Claude pipes up. I can't help but laugh.

We're on the highway now, and Mathieu is driving like there's no tomorrow.
"So, how do like France so far?" Isabelle asks me.
"The only thing I've done is play beach volleyball, and that sucks so." she laughs.
"My Dad is making her go to volleyball camp with Simone." Mathieu provides.
"Mon Dieu." My God[i/i] Isabelle laughs, "That sounds horrible."
"Yeah, I hate volleyball."

"Isabelle can teach you 'ow to play, then when you girls get all sweaty you can shower together." Nick says cocking an eyebrow, Isabelle kicks him, "Ow!"
"Stop thinking about my girlfriend like that." Jean-Claude says smacking Nick upside the head.

An hour or so later the city becomes visible. In my head I get excited when I see the bright city lights. A week of being stuck in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, stuck playing one of the top three goddamn worst sports ever created will make you appreciate the dirt and grime of the city.
"Where do I go now?" Mathieu asks as he takes an exit off the highway.
"Turn here." Jean-Claude instructs, "then turn right on Rue Henri."

Mathieu luckily enough finds a parking space within seconds and we all pile out. Across the street are a group of rowdy guys, rough housing and acting stupid.
"Hey mate, pass it here!" One of them laughs, another throws something at him, "This is wicked awesome."
"I actually wanna see the band, if you don't mind." the third guy says. They were speaking English, and they didn't have French accents, but British ones instead.
"Don't get your panties in a twist." the second guy says evilly.

Mathieu, his friends and I walk towards what must be the bar which the band is playing in. The place is dark and crowded, just like the live band clubs back home. Mathieu hands me a ticket and we head past the doorman.

The lot of us head up the stairs up into the gallery where we sit at a table overlooking the stage and the mosh pit.
"We got here right on time." Isabelle says delighted. Jean-Claude flags down one of the beer venders and buys us a round.

"I'm going to the washroom." I say getting up.
"The what?" Isabelle asks confused.
"The lieu." Nick says shaking his head, "If you watched more American TV you'd know that."

I head down the stairs to the main floor and look around till I spot a sign with the silhouette of a woman and a silhouette of a man, the international symbol of the crapper, pointing to the basement. I got down another flight of stairs and find the bathroom doors. I head into the washroom with the word "Femme" written on the door.

There are a bunch of punk-looking girls scattered along the row of sinks, smoking, drinking and chatting like the washroom was actually a lounge. I head into one of the stalls.

I slink my way past the fishnet, leather, combat boots, band t-shirt girls and run smack into a guy as soon as I get out of the washroom.
"Sorry . . I mean . ..m'excuse . . .I mean .. . ugh." I stop stuttering when I see its one of the British guys from before.
"Hey, you're not French." he says stupidly.
"Obviously." I laugh nervously, he was definitely better looking up close.
"You American?"
"Canadian actually."
"Oh good, so I don't have to call you a stupid Bush-loving hick." he grins.
"Guess not." I grin in return.

"So do you have a name, or just The Canadian?"
"Sammy, well Samantha."
"Nice to meet ya Sammy, I'm Trevor."
"I uhh actually have people waiting for me, so I'll see you around." I say dumbly.
"See ya in the pit Sammy!" Trevor calls after me as I head up the stairs.

I head back up to the gallery where my beer is still waiting for me.

I thought I'd miss booze like crazy but having your ass whooped in volleyball every single day to the point where you're too tired to move is the best method to give up drinking." I take a casual sip.

"Are you guys going down to the pit after?" I ask as a the guitar tech on stage makes sure everything is plugged in right.
"Uhh I don't know." Mathieu says in a sort of bored voice.
"I'm not going." Isabelle says leaning against Jean-Claude, by the looks of it JC wasn't going anywhere either.
"I'm going." Nick says excitedly. I can't help but roll my eyes.

The band starts up, and they do the Ramones justice, the Sex Pistols not so much but its all good. I down the rest of my beer and head down the stairs to get to the pit. I start pushing and ramming against the people in pit.

Suddenly I lose my footing and stumble backwards. I'm not stopping, I'm not bumping into anyone. SMACK! I've hit something. I get up and see it was a table. Next to the table I can vaguely make out the person sitting on the bar stool. It was Trevor.
"Sammy!" he mouths, he's probably yelling but the music is so loud. He heaves me up from my underarms so that I'm standing again then he pulls me onto his lap, "Are you okay?" he yells into my ear.
"Thanks." I yell back. I get up and head back into the pit.