Back in Madrid

Leaving Lonster and San Sebastian was hard. That was why I heavily relied on Chelsea, chips, and wine to get me through. They did.

After my long (but beautiful!) journey back to Madrid, I arrive in the bustling Puerta del Sol at 11pm on a Friday night. Eager anticipation was in the air. Lana scoops me up and carries me away to a birthday party at Dulce’s. Beach theme. There were water guns. It got a bit ugly.

We promptly headed out around midnight for a bar that played only (gulp) rock music. As most of you close to me know, this is a manifestation of my hell. I don’t know why my allergy is so strong, but I literally recoiled when they opened the doors and the cacophony of noise spilled out. So, horrible music… we meet again. I put on my game face and stepped inside.

Surrounded by shots (shots! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots! Love that song…) and crazy Europeans, I soon forgot my agony and joined in the revelry.

We were kicked out when they closed (probably around 5am) and headed out onto the street to discuss our next move. Apparently we were being too loud because Lana and I were chatting and laughing away when we suddenly felt water splash on the backs of our legs. We look around in astonishment, our eyes landing on a man on the 3rd floor above us, in his briefs and brandishing an empty water bottle like a sword.

Oh – that’s how it’s gonna be, is it? Lana and I unleashed a fury of words that tumbled off of our tongues and intended to provoke our said “water thrower” into….what, exactly? You see, in my fiery explosion of verbal retaliation I had never actually considered him “coming down and facing me like a man”, which was what I was strongly insisting on.

In a sudden moment of enlightenment, I quiet my voice and look around, to see all of my new friends staring at me with wide eyes. Leave it to the Americans. We were the first, the only, the loudest, the most obnoxious, to react in such a manner. How much of that has to do with the fact that we are from Texas? I may never know. But I still laugh when I picture the surprise on everyone’s faces, realizing that behind these sweet and demure appearances lurk tigers ready to pounce. Ra-ar.

Oh, the sun is up. One more drink then I’m off to bed.

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This entry was posted in Madrid, San Sebastian, Spain, Travel and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Back in Madrid

  1. Steffie says:

    Hah – love that last line! I’m jealous of your journeys!!

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