La Noche Madrilena

For whatever reason, I'm only able to successfully upload 1 picture per entry. So here is a Victory Sign from me to you. I'm in my tiny ancient elevator in my apartment, after successfuly walking to my apartment from the Gran Via with my aching feet. I went out two nights in a row until about 7AM, and the Victory is for making it back safe both times, despite obstacles such as alcohol and high heels. I don't have internet in my apartment, so I wrote the next portion on Word, right after I came back the first night. Enjoy.

It is clsoe to 7Am right now, 6:53AM to be precise, and I just arrived back to my bedroom. I've finally lived the notorious Madrid Life and I am back to report. What a ridiculous night.
The night wasn't so much ridiculous as the club we went to. Some girlfriends and I went to a "superdiscoteca" named Kapital. This establishment is the most ridiculous place I've ever been to. First of all, and most of all, it is 7 stories high, with different DJs and 7 different bars. The go-go dancers do nothing but look beautifully plastic, and chic-ly bored. There was everything, from mullets, to fishnets, to tight tight jeans (unisex), to cocaine, to everything 80s' that can be handled in 2005. Personally, mullets and crack is OUT OUT OUT for me, but there is always something retro that sparks the European heart.
The key to Madrid night life transportation is to leave for the club right when the Metro closes at 1:30AM and go home when it opens again at 6AM. The first week I was here, I thought they were fucking nuts to lead the kind of life but... here I am now. I did the nighlife Metro routine and walked the dark 6:30AM walk. I think that is a main factor to the crazy club nights here. The sun doesn't rise until around 8AM. Kids go home at 6 thinking it's nighttime because there isn't a hint of sunlight. Oh, but what do I know.
The night was filled with much dancing, much mingling, a bit of a rendezvous of all sorts, and plenty of funny and some-what disturbing attention. When you're foreign, and you're in a place full of intoxicated Spanish men, it is inevitable that you get more attention from them, whether it is wanted or not. Most of them were pleasant, but some were a bit to handle. Let's just say, that at one point in the night, a tall Spanish man with a baby blue daisy shirt threw me over his shoulder and carried me off to the dance floor, as if he was Tarzaan, and me Jane. It was more of a You-Tarzaan-Get OFF OF ME type of situation, so I got out of that unfortunate position like a True Expert. When you're a small girl like me, you learn to handle yourself in a testosterone-filled situation. People worry about me in that sense, but I assure you, I know how to take care of myself. Plus, when you got to a club with a group of American girls, there are no other groups of girls that are more loyal about getting you OUT of a bad-man-situation. Issaaaalllgoood.
Vale. It is 7:04AM now. I've drank my glass of water and ate my slice of bread. With insurance for a hang-over free afternoon, I bid thee good-night (morning) and adieu til next time.

P.S. I CHANGED THE SETTING SO ANNNYYYONNNNEEE CAN COMMENT WITHOUT HAVING A BLOGSPOT ACCOUNT. MAH BAD, I HAD IT SET TO "ACCOUNT HOLDERS ONLY" THIS WHOLE TIME. SO!!!!! NOW!!!! LET ME HEAR YA!!!