GOODBYE SPAIN, HELLO FLU

                Because of our frolic on the beach in the morning we were late getting to our show in Orihuela that night.  Marco assures us that it will be fine though.  He has worked with the promoter before and says he is a cool guy.  When we arrive I almost think we are at the wrong place. It’s a beautiful theater located in the heart of downtown.  Its big backstage area allowed for several Spinal Tap moments with each of us clamoring to find our way to the bathrooms, the stage, or the bar. 

                We played with a Spanish band called Logan who were very nice, played very Spanish music, and spoke very little English.  They sounded good in sound check and I wanted to stick around to see their set, but we had to go get dinner.  It was another tapas place with lots of wine and the only notable thing I ate that I really enjoyed was the main course of cuddlefish.  I had never had it before and it was excellent.

                We went back to the auditorium, caught a bit of the openers set, drank some pre show beers, and played a really good set to a lot of people. They were seated people though, which is always weird for me unless I’m playing background music at a restaurant.  Afterwards, we talked with the band a little and took a really awkward group photo with them while trying to convey that we were going to the promoters bar afterwards if they wanted to join us.

                Now, our hotel is walking distance to both the auditorium and the bar and I’m very, very sick.  I should go back and go to bed, right? I didn’t get any sleep the night before, so that would be the smart thing to do, but I don’t do it. I go out with Kevin and we stay out talking to a group of people our age who were at the show and recognized us.  The bartender kept giving us free beer and the night just flew by.  As the hours passed I talked so much Spanglish that by four thirty in the morning my voice was gone and I could barely stand up.  Kevin wasn’t in much better shape.  We stumbled back to the hotel. 

                Why did I do this?  Because I’m stubborn, that’s why.  I had already made up my mind that it was Friday night in a foreign country and I was going to have a good time come hell or high water.  It’s a character flaw really, and one that my ex-wife hated in particular.  Once I make up my mind that I’m doing something almost nothing can dissuade me.  That’s what I hate about being sick. It’s not the discomfort, (although that sucks) but it’s that it makes me alter my plans and keeps me from doing what I want to do.  I’ve always ignored illness because I would just rather brush it aside as if I just can’t be bothered with it.  One time I had ingrown toenails as a kid for over a year because I wouldn’t tell my mom about it since I knew this would result in a trip to the doctor.  I’m not scared of doctors, it just irks me to HAVE to go see one.  She finally asked why all my socks had blood on them and almost fainted when I showed her my feet. 

                So, I woke up feeling like absolute death on Saturday.  Not so much from a hangover, but mostly from party rocking too hard while sick.  The whole ride to Barcelona Kevin and I were miserable.

Barcelona itself was beautiful.  Driving through it you could see lots of cool art and architecture. We played a typical rock club and the crowd was a lot of fun.  The best part of the evening for me was getting to see some familiar faces.  Whit’s girlfriend and her family were in town on vacation and it just so happened to be her birthday.  I know Whit had been looking forward to exploring Barcelona with her since we left America and I was really happy for him.  Bj and I also had a friend of ours named Mikey from Raleigh come to the show that had been living here for several weeks.  He is a super cool dude and always a lot of fun.

It was great to see everyone even though I was feeling like crap.  Mickey invited us to go out with some Finnish friends that he had, and as much as I wanted to go; I just couldn’t.  We were all beat, but at this point I’m starting to think I have the flu.  We drove to our hotel which was about twenty minutes outside of town and crashed. 

                I slept until two in the afternoon.  When I say that I “slept” I mean that I tossed, turned, coughed, and got up to blow my nose for twelve hours.  I’m sure I was a joy to room with. We got up and went to a Chinese buffet that had some awesome seafood.  Then I went back to bed for six hours, got up, walked to McDonalds, and went right back to bed. That was my Sunday in Barcelona. Sad.

                Today I woke up fully convinced that I have the flu and that I may be dying.  On our way out of town we stopped to get lunch and I popped into a pharmacy to get some meds.  I must have picked some weird holistic medicine place because all they had was stupid natural stuff. I tried to convey to the woman that I had the flu and she gave me all sorts of root extracts and other bullshit. I need something that will make me trip my balls off if I take too much of it.  I want something synthesized in a lab.  I want something heavy duty.  I want some Tussin. 

                We take a detour after crossing into France to see another Cathedral.  At this point I am too sick to give a shit about any cathedral, but I do think it’s very funny that in the brief time we were there Bj got shushed by one old lady and Ryan got told to take off his hat by another.  We are American Tourist D-bags.  On the bright side, while I was there I found another pharmacy and got some legit meds.  I’m hoping they work. 

                We made it to our stopping point in Montpellier for the night and I pumped myself full of my new medicine.  I’ve basically wasted two days of being in Europe because I got sidelined by the flu.  Not cool. Hopefully I wake up tomorrow and feel better for our show in France.