Acting on Impulse
Any minute now, I’m going to be told to make my way to gate C44. I can already see people, grinning and holding tight to their passports and boarding passes, trying unsuccessfully to form a linear queue.
Unable to bear the heat anymore, I’d booked myself on a cheap flight to colder realms. After having done everything humanly possible to stay cool: putting a bottle of frozen water in front of my fan, taking several showers a day and letting myself dry half naked on my balcony (hoping to lure passer-bys into my nest), drinking litres of water, going to the gay swimming pool everyday (yes, there is one!) and taking long “siestas” afterwards – if you see what I mean. My organism still needed a break. Being used to London’s eternal rain and its hostile wind; my tanned skin – I should say my sunburned skin – and I had to leave so I fled (sue me!).
Though while I’m writing these words – waiting for group B to be called in - I can’t help but think that by the time this gets printed and ends up in your hands, I’ll be back at work. So what is there to look forward to in the new academic year?
Hum… I’m stuck.
The Spaniards have taught me something – yes, they have! Why do you look so surprised? – And what they have taught me is that no matter how hard you plan fun ahead, it won’t be as good as you originally imagined it. Their spur of the moment, let’s-improvise-as-we-go-along attitude to life has rubbed off on me. As annoying as spending hours deciding what to do and where to go might be at first, I quickly got used to it and especially to the fact that once you’re somewhere, you’re more than likely going to finish the night there. And if that somewhere happens to be your flat that your friends have crashed at the last minute, then let it be it. Sure we could roam the streets and hit clubs after clubs such as the new Delirio: Delirio live (C/Pelayo) – which is a brighter, bigger, soulless version of the original one with pink and green neon walls – Or Longplay (Plaza de Vàzquez de Mella) – newly transformed by a policy that no-longer accepts 16 year-olds, thank God! – Or Polana (C/Barbieri) - with its new dinner-like setting and onstage performances. Or we could just hang out with cheap beers and good friends wherever our backsides feel comfortable.
F.H. just came out of the bathroom (Of course, I’m taking her with me!) and she’s gesturing that I should get a move on. She’s packed some tortillas and has improvised a last minute Calimocho with a mini bottle of wine and can of coke from the dispenser. How will she survive being away for so long?
