Mr. Greenweedz had a killer time in Spain despite the language barrier…
I remember Madrid for, if nothing else, my lack of command of the Spanish language. I tell you my friends: communication is not to be denied. Learn that shit or this can happen to you…
All during the tour, my staple diet was primarily los boccadillos de atún (tuna sandwiches).
They’re pretty prevalent, like pig legs. I fell in love with this sandwich spot around the corner from our Madrid hotel. I went there just about every day. In this sandwich spot was a lovely young Dominican señorita who couldn’t be sweeter and she seemed to be there to serve me and the rest of the fellas everyday. Actually, now that I think about it, we couldn’t have gotten off on a wronger foot. Me and the fellas would stop there before we decided to take on the Madrid nights after accumulating munchies for that ass.
She spoke nothing but Spanish and I was struggling. Completely lost in translation, I think my Spanish was the worst of us all. But that’s not to say we were all fluent in the crew! I’m entertaining our new Dominican friend with my jokes, wit, savvy, and just my willingness to be a bit goofy. She thought we were a cool bunch so I decided to freak my meal by trying to figure out how to ask her if my sandwich on the house.
Let me set up the scenery: a counter, myself, next to me is Cosmos, Josh (a friend of ours visiting from Berlin), Zelm, BT, Kev, and Neal. Cos is closest to me and like I said, not all of us are fluent. So I’m like, “How do I ask her if this on the house?” Cos, very helpfully, chimes in, “Su casa”.
So I start waving five euros at her, saying with extreme confidence, “Su casa, su casa?” Our friendly señorita looked at me like I was a damn fool. And so did the rest of the gang. Here I am essentially asking this woman if I can take her to my friend’s house for 6 bucks. They never let me live that one down. Luckily she let me slide on account of my ignorance and figured I was a derelict in the first place. Peanut Butter, oh Peanut Butter.