SLIPPERY and WATERLESS in MADRID
My husband was adamant about his decision. He said that he was tired of using so much space for underwear in packing for travel. For our trip to Spain he intended to pack four pieces of nylon underpants and four undershirts that he would hand wash each night. I stressed the part about him washing his packing choices to make sure we were clear on that point. He nodded agreement. We zipped the luggage and were off for the airport.
This was our first trip to Spain. We had very close friends in Madrid who were looking forward to giving us a personal guided tour.
As fate would have it, the Chicago Bulls were playing their championship game the first night we were in Madrid. When we awoke in the morning, I went down to the front desk to see if anyone could tell me if they had won.
“Excuse me,” I said to the young man behind the desk.. “Can you tell me please how the Bulls did last night?” “The boolz?” he asked looking at me rather puzzled. It was at that moment that I realized I was an American asking how bulls were doing in Spain. I tried to hide my embarrassment. “Michael Jordan Bulls,” I responded shyly. “Oh, Michael Jordan,” the clerk repeated. “He win!”
I headed back to our room to tell my husband the great news. Our friends were going to pick us up in an hour. We had to quickly go to the supermercado so that we could get some bottled water. Because his back was hurting him, Richard had put on his nylon back brace. We walked as fast as we could. Walking down the aisles of the supermercado in search of water was an entertaining experience. We always enjoyed looking at another country’s products and how they were displayed.
We found the water. I asked Richard for money because he was wearing the money belt. I watched my husband put his hand under his shirt searching for the money belt. As I watched, suddenly his hand moved down the inside of his trousers. He kept turning to try to find some privacy surrounded by shoppers selecting their vegetables. His hand went lower and he looked panicked.
“Honey, what are you doing?” I asked frantic that at any moment my husband would be arrested for improper public behavior.
“I can’t find my money belt.” His answer was so desperate that I did not know whether I should laugh at what I was watching or cry because I was not going to be able to purchase water. By now every shopper around us was enjoying this private moment.
When we returned to our hotel room and my husband undressed, we discovered that the money belt had slid down his thighs. His nylon underwear, his nylon brace and his nylon money belt were too slippery a combination. Luckily our friends brought extra bottled water for our Madrid tour that day.
Published Gull Lake Visitor Guide Canada June 2008
This was our first trip to Spain. We had very close friends in Madrid who were looking forward to giving us a personal guided tour.
As fate would have it, the Chicago Bulls were playing their championship game the first night we were in Madrid. When we awoke in the morning, I went down to the front desk to see if anyone could tell me if they had won.
“Excuse me,” I said to the young man behind the desk.. “Can you tell me please how the Bulls did last night?” “The boolz?” he asked looking at me rather puzzled. It was at that moment that I realized I was an American asking how bulls were doing in Spain. I tried to hide my embarrassment. “Michael Jordan Bulls,” I responded shyly. “Oh, Michael Jordan,” the clerk repeated. “He win!”
I headed back to our room to tell my husband the great news. Our friends were going to pick us up in an hour. We had to quickly go to the supermercado so that we could get some bottled water. Because his back was hurting him, Richard had put on his nylon back brace. We walked as fast as we could. Walking down the aisles of the supermercado in search of water was an entertaining experience. We always enjoyed looking at another country’s products and how they were displayed.
We found the water. I asked Richard for money because he was wearing the money belt. I watched my husband put his hand under his shirt searching for the money belt. As I watched, suddenly his hand moved down the inside of his trousers. He kept turning to try to find some privacy surrounded by shoppers selecting their vegetables. His hand went lower and he looked panicked.
“Honey, what are you doing?” I asked frantic that at any moment my husband would be arrested for improper public behavior.
“I can’t find my money belt.” His answer was so desperate that I did not know whether I should laugh at what I was watching or cry because I was not going to be able to purchase water. By now every shopper around us was enjoying this private moment.
When we returned to our hotel room and my husband undressed, we discovered that the money belt had slid down his thighs. His nylon underwear, his nylon brace and his nylon money belt were too slippery a combination. Luckily our friends brought extra bottled water for our Madrid tour that day.
Published Gull Lake Visitor Guide Canada June 2008
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