it was the last vacation my truest and i had as a couple.
we had planned on breaking up in november but the thought of getting new apartments around the holidays seemed like a downer so when tsar said they were gonna play four nights in spain for y2k we were all, we gotta go.
it was probably my last taste of pre 9/11 because i flew international with a pair of scissors in my backpack because i was going to wrap some belated christmas gifts and send them from a Foreign Land. only on the trip back did security let me know that it wasnt ok. but they still let me through with them!
we partied all night and slept all day and seriously had to set the alarm so we could catch 90 minutes of daylight and run to the museo to see your boy Hieronymus. danced in the town square danced in a sweaty “club” that had the beastie boys on a glorified boom box danced in a garage of a kid whose parents were out of town.
danced in tsars hotel room overlooking the world as the skies filled with fireworks.
every once in a while her eyes would tear up because it was so bittersweet.
maybe it was the emotion i was repressing but the food to me tasted so dull and lifeless. here were these glorious people everywhere – whole families strolling through the town – everyone looking good. but every meal i ate was spoonful of disappointment.
and for some reason they served frozen, rigged, french fries with anything id order. breakfast lunch or dinner.
so when metromix sarah told me there was a new spanish place in little tokyo called spitz
featuring some amazing kebob sandwhiches i was all yawn.
but we went and it was great and i see hope for spain now so bravo