You may be thinking, "How can that Kate McCauley's story fit into this at all? I'm so annoyed Bexxx shared that with me. Tedious drivel!" Trust me, it is relevant.
Everything was going very well - for Slaw, that is. See, while our bartender was the kind of Irishman one swoons over, his friends were not the cream of the crop. If I'm being generous, I'd say they consisted of the portion of the crop that you sell to Mexico to make a few extra bucks on substandard crop. And Slaw had our hot bartender wrapped around her little finger while I was fending off his hairy friend who kept trying to hold my hand. I pounded drink after drink, desparately trying to make the best of a situation as an obvious wing-lady. Then my jealousy took over.
I started scribbling notes on my hand about what was happening. Examples include: "Slaw won't stop making out with the bartender" and "Their kisses are really sloppy and they are all over each other." "Now they are dancing. Ew." "Slaw doesn't know the song Regulators." I did not know about this hand scribbling until the next morning when I was brushing my teeth and noticed faint words all over my hand. I only know what was written because at some point someone must have realized that I was creepily writing on my hand and offered me a piece of paper, where I transcribed everything I had already written and more. I was obviously very, very, jealous.
Anyway, 5 AM eventually rolled around and everyone decided to call it a night... Slaw and her Irish BoyToy hinting that they wanted to go back to IBT's... alone. "It's fine," I said, "I'll just take a cab back to the hostel." But I was angry - even though IBT paid for my fare - and I imagine that I sulkily read my notes aloud to the cabbie because that seems like something I would do.
In the morning, I woke up and Slaw was still gone. It was only at this point that I started to become worried as neither of us had phones or, apparently, knew how to use phones in Ireland. "Where's your friend?" our hostel-mates wondered as they woke up and saw her empty bunk. "Oh, she stayed out," I replied, trying to exude confidence that she wasn't murdered. They giggled knowingly in response.
Eventually, Slaw crept back into the room and told me what happened. She only vaguely recalled going home with him so she was shocked to wake up in a strange bed. She quietly crawled out of the bed and started trying to leave him notes but could only find pieces of mail. Here's how the parting-note writing went (Slaw's thoughts italicized):
"Hi, thanks for the fun time. Here's my email [email spelled wrong]." Oh crap. I'll just toss this letter.
"Hey, I had a lot of fun last night. We shuld keep" Ugh, now I spelled should wrong! I'll keep this letter too. I'll start over again... look for something that he won't need...
"Thanks for the memories, email me when you get a chance. it'd be cool to keep..." Stupid! This just sounds stupid! Tossing this letter too. One more, get it right!
"Hey, sorry I have to leave. Here's my email so I hope we can stay in touch. Sorry for all the mistakes."
She was referring to the mistakes on the previous letters but he had no way of knowing that since she was throwing out all of his mail. The addendum just sounded like she was apologizing for the mistakes of the night before. Typical.
After leaving her fourth note behind, Slaw walked outside to try to gather her bearings. She looked across the street and what did she see but Kate McCauley's! Feeling both elated for knowing where she was and dejected upon realization that she had a three mile walk back, she started her extended hike and made it home alive. IBT did eventually decode her note and email her, but, as it is with many overseas romances, they did not stay in contact.