Road Blogger

Five, six, seven, eight, the sweat oozes from my pores. Women turns first, then the man and our hands are crossed with the man’s right hand holding the woman’s left hand over the top of our other hands where the women’s right holds man’s left. The moisture mingles with the movement of our bodies. Our brains register the sequences with rythms. We convene at a Tapas Bar called Appertivos and it all leads a quench of our thirst with wine. It is called “Appertivo” with delicious Tapas-Spanish finger food.

It’s dark here with voluminous flights of wine flowing down the gullet to wash the tapas down. Our talk is bold and brash enough to impress the woman with the tight green bodice and the intricate embroidery curving over the natural roll of her hills. “Vollipoce is red and deep with a light oak-"it’s my favorite" she says with the garlic bread and fried squid. She wants us to drink her favorite wine and we buckle to the roll of her sensuality. Our mouths say yes and our high agrees.

Another woman enters “Appertivo” and rushes to the bar which we have named “Bizarre Experiences”. Ken the owner deftly moves in to confront her and lead her and her flowers so she would sell away from the patrons. She turns to nail Ken with her Walkman and drops to the floor screaming the curdling scream of a woman giving birth. Her arms flail and legs wildly kick. All Ken could do was capture a leg and drag her through the tables with her dress splayed in different directions and her light blue panties flashing colors of embroidered doilies. Out the door she goes and Ken with her. She beats him more and I’ve noticed he hasn’t landed a hand on her with the exception of her being dragged from the premises. Ken is left with a goose egg on his head and I could tell there is collateral damage because it didn't feel right to be intimate with the woman I was with.