This writing is a bit late of course, but my last day in Spain was quite a memorable one. One thing I saw in Spain that I remember from my childhood is cigarette machines. They used to be everywhere, then suddenly they disappeared. Obviously the issue was that an unmonitored vending machine would not be able to verify the age of the purchaser.
In Spain, at least with this machine, they took a different approach. There was a small IR remote control tied up to a shelf near the register. A potential customer has to reach up and press the button to enable the vending machine. I think it’s kind of funny to watch rough and crusty dudes come in from working in the various warehouses around Sant Boi have to take the extra step to reach up and validate their intent. The annoyed looks on their faces… there’s just something about it. I also think it’s funny/strange that the design of the vending machine’s paint job is so American 50s style, and even stranger still, none of the bowlers in the picture are smoking.
Another strange thing I ran into here in Spain is pig leg, or jamón. Below is a photo of the jamón that was part of the catering fare at the OutBack Power SLU (OutBack Spain) office grand opening party.
If you couldn’t tell by the device used to hold the pig leg up on the table, it’s a really big deal in Spain. I’ve seen entire stores dedicated to displaying and selling hundreds of hanging pig legs, some that go for over €400 a piece! I didn’t try any, but I hear it’s rather salty for an American palette. Apparently it’s so good to the Spanish that they even have jamón flavored potato chips, which I also did not try.
After the party started to wind down, several attendees convinced me and some others to keep the party going down in Barcelona. The crew was split into 2 taxis and one personal car and we headed off. Even though attempts were made to appoint a party crew leader so we could remain organized, a leader who was strong and knowledgeable in the ways of partying did not step forward. As a result 1) none of the cars arrived at the same area within Barcelona, so we were all separated into “party pockets”. 2) nobody made sure to have mobile phone numbers of any of the other party pocket members.
Our crew was basically dropped off in a back alley somewhere in downtown Barcelona. There was a lot of people and a lot going on, including a lot of female African imports standing around. Time was passing as we waited for other cars to arrive, and our party pocket was slowly turning into a sleeper cell. I decided to hop on my phone and try to call anyone I could in any of the other cars. As I held my phone to my face, I felt a hand placed on my side and slide around my back. I thought, “that’s a little touchy for a party crew member, but hey it’s Europe!”… but when I looked over my shoulder I was getting a stare-down from a pretty rough lookin ticket who was obviously looking for some cash in exchange for back alley services… and I remembered I was in fact, standing in a back alley. After fumbling through phone books and some random calling around, we were able to contact another party pocket and we headed off, quickly.
I made the final mistake of glancing (a very fleeting glance) down another back alley (yes, a back alley off of a back alley, Barcelona is like 50% back alleys) and caught eyes with another “lady of the night” who I think was honestly getting up off her knees at that very moment. In an instant I had passed the alleyway, but I heard the excitement and determination of a bloodthirsty stock broker at market opening ringing out in each echoing footfall as she ran me down.
I kept walking full speed, but in less than a second her hands were everywhere. I felt like I was surrounded, but it was only her and her skillful hands probing everywhere, and I mean everywhere. She checked my back pockets as she feigned a sexy pass at my ass, then she danced around me and had wrapped herself around me, checking my waistline for a money belt. All the while, chanting things like “Let me suck it. I know you want it.”, and because I kept my hands in my front pockets where my cash and phone were, she outright grabbed my crotch and fondled me for about 2 seconds before we finally hit “the main road”, where she promptly gave up and ran back to her station. It was a fairly awkward couple seconds, trying to walk away with this woman basically owning a handful of some of my most sensitive bits. The amazing part is that she was somehow able to determine, almost instantly, that she had my dick and my left nut in her grasp and she was able to actually let go of my testicle and focus her remaining efforts squarely on my manhood. Now that’s a professional.
After finally joining forces with another crew, the night had simply run out of time. The doors of every bar and late night joint closed right in front of us, and we were left with nothing to do but get rides back to the hotel and pack for our early flights, departing in mere hours.
