Post-graduate studies

So my college reminiscences are of little interest to anyone. How about stories from the year after graduation spent in Madrid "teaching" English? Bundeskraut?

I vaguely recall one night when 4 or 5 of us were out painting the town red. I don't recall why. I do recall that we all got paid once per month all around the same weekend so that we were always flush with cash for several days until we had blown most of our money and had to return to eating potatoes and drinking Spanish wine. This particular evening must have fallen shortly after a payday, because I was flushed.

So, there I stood, minding my own business, while the 3-4 others debated which nightspot we should next grace with our presence. Would it be the chess bar, a cozy club that received us warmly, where the regulars smoked hashish and played chess, and where we were often allowed to stay after closing and to make our own drinks? Would it be the cowboy bar where, for some reason, they drank Budweiser and acted like John Wayne if he were a foot shorter and Spanish? Would it be the (help me out here Coco, I've forgotten all of the choices).

Anyway, I was minding my own business, waiting for the group consensus, when I oh so carefully leaned backwards against the wall behind me. Unfortunately for all of us, the wall was not a wall but rather was a wall-sized plate glass window. Also unfortunately for us, the Spanish apparently have not yet embraced tempered glass or lean-able windows.

And so I and thousands of shards of broken glass proceeded to fall into the fairly fashionable restaurant situated behind me. Fortunately, I landed delicately between two tables rather than on top of any diners, and I suffered only a minor gash on my ear to show for my journey. The patrons were understandably surprised to make my acquaintance, and while I attempted to properly introduce myself from my prone position, my friends immediately jumped into action to intervene in my defense.

First, they intercepted the horde of approaching staff to advise that 1) it was not my fault that I had crashed into their restaurant (not true) and 2) that I was bleeding from the head (true) and needed medical attention (not true). In the meanwhile, two of the others hoisted me to my feet and out the door while whoever was left offered sincere apologies to the diners before we all took off running down the street.

I felt as though I should make reparations when, a couple of weeks later, we passed the spot and saw the plywood boards where the window had been. Unfortunately, we were, by that time, down to the potato and Spanish wine diet without enough saved to make it to the next payday. I could only hope that the Spanish had invented insurance claims.