Loud, dangerous, highly libidinous, and alcoholic

When I was 20, I went on a three week study abroad tour with a local college. I had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and was devastated. A friend mentioned she was going, so I decided to tag along. We toured with a group of kids and two professors through London, Paris, Florence, Rome, and then the Greek Islands. Oh, what a time we had. It was a defining moment in my life, and I was forever changed by the experience. It was the perfect thing for me to do after the breakup. It allowed me to get away, meet new people, explore different cultures, and find out about myself. Cheesy, but true. Part of this defining moment was a tag line that my friends (who I met on the trip, and who are, to this day, some of my closest friends) began to use. A descriptor. When we were in Rome, we went to the Trevi Fountain, as all tourists do. Ah, the grace and beauty. Of the fountain and of the swarthy Italian boys looking to score easy American girls. And I was oh so easy. The bad breakup had left me seriously sad, but also seriously horny. The guy who broke my heart had been my one and only, so I was looking to prove my desirability and add some marks to my bedposts. I have never been the kind of girl to think that love is the only way to get to sex. Plus, who doesn't want to have flings on vacation!? The boys at the Trevi Fountain were gorgeous and attentive, and though I didn't understand a word, I ate it up. We hung out with these guys for the evening, drinking Chianti from the bottle and trading kisses. Eventually, the boys settled on two English words to describe me. They called me "loud" and "dangerous." Throughout the trip I was such an eager beaver, always checking out the boys, always commenting on which one was cute, who I would "do." In London, one boy told me I had "a lovely chassis." In Paris, I drooled over artsy types hanging around Montmartre. By the time we reached Florence, home to the most beautiful men I've ever seen, I was so keyed up it was pathetic. Grinding on the dance floor at Full Up just wasn't going to be enough. Onward to Greece, where on the ferry from Brindisi I met and conquered a gorgeous truck driver (I kid you not -- a truck driver) who spoke no English. On the deck at night crossing the Ionian Sea, I finally got laid. It was quick, and unsatisfying, and interrupted by the captain, but it was connection, and it was a beautiful (and hilarious!) moment. At the end of the trip, on the very last night in Athens, I met a gorgeous British boy who rocked my world. His accent, his shaved head, the tattoos. He called me "brilliant" and he was glorious. Thinking about him and the balcony of the hotel still makes me swoon. Thus arrived the third appellation -- highly libidinous. So, now I'm loud, dangerous, and highly libidinous. The alcoholic part should be obvious. We spent practically the entire trip drunk. No drinking age? Wine with lunch, beer after touring museums, hard liquor at the clubs at night. Sleep? We can sleep when we get home, now pour me another. These days I am still loud and highly libidinous, but I drink very rarely and I'm only dangerous when provoked. Sometimes I miss being all of the above, but when it comes down to it, loud and horny are always going to be a part of who I am.