Our anniversary was so hot, we never left the hotel room.
Allow me to elaborate. My husband and I celebrated our 6-year wedding anniversary on June 23rd. It was so hot because we were both running fevers, and we never left the hotel room because we both contracted a flu bug.
Awesome. No, really, this is awesome. This is why I paid thousands of dollars to visit this amazing country and experience my Spanish heritage in action. NOT.
Commemorate in Epic Proportions.
Seriously. So steamy hot. We were guzzling way-out-of-the-budget Spanish bottled water like it was a lifeline. Yet somehow it mazed it's way down our chins and emptied into a sweaty pool on the flimsy hotel mattress. Sick. We groaned. Occasionally we changed it up and we moaned. Our muscles throbbed with the flu. Every time I looked over at Stevie, his lifeless body draped across the sweaty bed covers, his glazed sick eyes met mine in harmonious misery. We know how to party.
How did this happen? Well, I'd like to blame it on the hellish 9-hour night train we took from Barcelona to Madrid (where Stevie spent most of this joyful ride resurrecting his dinner), but I don't really know if that's a fair reason. We had been traveling for three weeks straight, spending most of our time in public places. We were bound to come in contact with grimy germs at some point. And to add insult to injury, we'd been touring continuously for about 15 hours per day on very little sleep, so I guess our immune systems weren't exactly been thrilled with us. We just weren't prepared for this madness to happen. Who gets the flu in June? And what kind of couple gets it at the exact same time?! ON THEIR ANNIVERSARY??? Disgusting. I'm disgusted with everything.
For those of you who have been following our Euro trip, you might have been thinking it's been all sunshine and rainbows. To be honest, I had been thinking that, too. It's been a dream. Well, the trip has come to a crashing halt and I cannot kick myself enough for not packing more meds. And hand sanitizer. WE NEED NYQUIL!!! Stupid Spanish farmacias. I can't understand any of the labels.
This is Spain. We're supposed to be out touring. Painting things red. Sampling tapas in the Plaza Mayor and inspecting Velazquez's famous works like the Las Meninas at the Prado. Instead, we took turns rubbing each other's backs and praying for the torture to end, begging for this to only be a 24-hour bug.
So like I said, it was hot. One hot day followed by one incredibly hot night. And then another bonus hot day. How lucky. In the famed words of Miss Peggy Lee, “he gives me fever.” Great. Marvelous. Thanks for the reminder of all the wonders men can give us, Peg.
I guess I'll have to explore Madrid another year. I'm sure my Aunt Shirley will be thrilled to hear how marvelously we spent our time in one of her favorites cities.
Here's to chugging OJ in a Madrid hotel room for two days straight. And seeing nothing but its airport and train station. Not gonna lie, I am happy to say Hasta Luego, Espana.