Velma Loses Her Glasses (Dos)

So, to recap, Alceste and I were behaving like boorish, alcoholic American slobs living in a shit-hole in Madrid.

I had arrived in Madrid on a round-trip plane ticket which had a return date of anytime within 1 year. I had saved $1,000 and my plan was to stay in Spain until I ran out of money or got a job, whichever came first. As the budget for gluttony consumed my savings, my job search quickly became more urgent.

Eventually, I landed a teaching gig in some suburb which was a 30 minute busride outside of Madrid. Col can help me with the name of that crappy little town. I do remember that there were very few bars and the only disco was named "Thriller" or "Beat It" or something similar which was related to its Michael Jackson theme - red and black leather jackets, single white gloves, chimps, young boys, etc.

The academy at which I worked was owned by a homosexual Frenchman and was managed by his boy-toy. Over time, I learned that I was hired because the gay boss wanted to be gay with me, and this infuriated the management. Fortunately for the management, I had no interest in this primarily because I am not, and was not at the time, gay.

To the contrary, I had, rather by coincidence, stumbled upon a gimmick which was delivering muchas chicas directly to our doorstep. In order to improve my Spanish speaking skills, I had run a classified ad -"Americano, 22 anos, quiero intercambiar 1 hora Ingles por 1 hora Espanol." The crafty Spanish have developed their language in such a manner that one can determine the sex of a person by the adjectives used to describe him. From my ad, readers could glean that I was not only American but also male. Thus, all of the respondents were chicas anxious for a little intercambiar. We were virtually rolling in Nurias and Marias.

In the meanwhile, since I was now employed, Alceste and I could afford (barely) better accomodations. So, we moved into a different shit-hole, but with separate rooms and 2 beds! This was a third floor walk-up with 4 bedrooms and a shared bath and kitchen. Our 40 year old virgin landlord, Juan, lived on the second floor with his 400 year old mother, La Bruja. We shared our apartment with Gunther, a German who worked for one of Spain's national newspapers, and John, yet another gay English teacher. It just occurred to me this minute that I should have introduced John to my boss.

John was from New York, and he had come to Madrid for some sort of exotic foreign experience. He was about to get it when Alceste and I moved in, but I don't think that was the experience that John had in mind.

To be continued