Emily is the classiest person I know.

A couple months ago, Emily went to a discoteca and met "some random black dude" who she thought was hot. They were hanging out together and walking around outside.

In Barcelona, there is a swarm of Pakastani men near the discotecas who try to sell roses to drunk people for a euro each. The second anyone comes out of the clubs, they semi-attack them and try to convince them that the girl they are with is beautiful and deserves a rose.

While Emily and her "date" were outside, he took his wallet out to look for his metro card, or see how much money he had, or something, and a Pakastani rose-vendor came up to them trying to sell roses. Emily wasn't really paying attention to what was going on, and looked over to see the wallet and the roses and put two and two together. Her immediate response was: "Oh! You don't have to buy me flowers!"

He looked at her for a second and then said "I... wasn't going to."

(Note: Emily said I can only put this on my blog if I say how much this guy really liked her. I've never met him, but supposedly he told her he wants to come visit her in Piedmont, so it's true love, for sure.)

Last Thursday, Emily got way too drunk and got in bed with her Señora. Emily lives with a host family who feeds her but has strict rules about having people over (only girls, and even then she needs to ask first).

Emily came home, got into her own bed, went to the bathroom to vomit, and then accidentally went into her Señora's room (the door was closed and the lights were off) where she started trying to crawl into bed. Her Señora screamed, and turned on the lights to find Emily half on the ground, with her torso on the bed since she was trying to pull herself onto it.

Emily is the classiest person I know.