Hazy Weekend in Madrid

Everybody thinks that writers live hedonistic, lazy lives. Actually, we're hard working people who put in 60+ hours a week chasing our muse. Then we reward ourselves by being hedonistic and lazy. Last weekend was one of those rewards.

A friend was down from London last weekend, and with Almudena dutifully taking care of the kid, we went off with some Spanish friends for two consecutive all nighters. I don't do this terribly often (read: not often enough) so I make sure to do it right. Madrid has tons of great bars and restaurants, and lots of late-night randomness.

High Points:

1. Watching a drunk Londoner try to pick up Spanish girls by using random Spanish words. "Hola", "Hola", "Umm. . .tortillas", "Que?", "Uh, Sean, get over here!"

2. Getting an entire bar to start calling him "El Mutante."

3. Getting directions from some drunken illegal immigrants in the street and being led to the best bar I've been to in Europe.

4. Unprintable.

5. Hanging out in a cool club, and discovering an hour later there's an even cooler club downstairs.

6. Sharing sleep deprivation with good friends.


Worst Moments:

1. Going to Macumba hoping to hear DJ Dave Clarke, only to find out it's a kiddie bar. I mean, it was like they went to every high school in central Spain about two years ago telling them to come to Macumba in 2008. They also must have handed out illustrated brochures telling them all how to dress. I have no idea how we got in.

2. Getting out of Macumba and realizing we were in the middle of nowhere, with no taxis in sight.

3. Monday morning. Back to the reality of writing.