Hilarity100

Last night we stayed about 20km south of Madrid in a Formula 1 hotel. This is what happens when you forget to book ahead for a Saturday night in a major city; we forgot because for us, days have no meaning.

Anyhow, after scouting about our tiny, sparsely furnished room we did a quick stock-take and realise that between the five of us there were only four towels and two cups. So I quickly nipped back down to the Spanish-speaking-only receptionist to request the extra needed items. Having to communicate all of this via charades didn't faze me at all - my mime skills are of a-grade quality.

Unfortunately, after I'd executed my action for "towel" the receptionist ran off and came back with someone who could speak English. Someone who could could speak English and who also leapt straight into detailed instructions of how to get to the local discotheque. Turns out that when I'm drying myself with a towel I look exactly like I'm dancing, apparently.

So, who wants to go to the disco with me?