Kiana and I didn’t really sleep at all. We got back to the hostel around 6am and Kiana left around 8:30am to catch her flight back to Barcelona. I slept in til 11 when I had to check out then read on the beach for a bit before catching the bus to the airport. After all the crazy happenings that went on in Ibiza, it was nice to lay on the beach and lay on the chairs at the airport doing nothing. I lived out my Tom Hanks “Terminal” fantasy wandering the airport eating pastries and editing pictures to the soundtrack of boarding calls and jet engines roaring.
When it came time to check in, I was offered an earlier flight and jumped at the opportunity to get to Madrid 2.5 hours early and not at midnight. The flight went smoothly and I ended up spending the entire flight talking with the girl in the seat next to me, Virginia. She was moving to Ibiza from Madrid and was flying back to bring some more stuff over. I showed her pictures of my family and we talked about Ibiza and Madrid and she gave me a massive list of things to do in Madrid.
When we got to the airport she called some hostels from her phone for me. They were all booked so I decided to try my luck on Grand Via, Madrid’s Time Square. I got off the metro at Grand Via and wandered down a side road. Every couple of steps down the street there were women loitering, this should have been a sign. One of these women came up to me and propositioned me for sex. I was in the red light district, backpacking backpack and all. I told her no thanks and tried to walk around. She sidestepped me, said we could have “some fun”, and grabbed my dick: a grand slam in the hooker world. I stood my ground though, I still had my backpack on and this women had what appeared to be a small cultivation of herpes on the left side of her mouth. It was not an appetizing offer and I needed to get out of the red light district.
I made my way down Grand Via walking from hostel to hostel in search of a room. Up seven flights of stairs, down seven flights of stairs, up five flights of stairs, you get the idea. I was having no luck because it was a Friday night in Madrid’s Time Square. The last hostel I stopped at on Grand Via helped me find a hostel outside of town. I hopped on the metro, and got off at the right stop…in Madrid’s Harlem. I could hear sirens from outside the hostel as I made my way up the creaky old stairs to the hostel’s reception. It was a sketchy place, but I was tired and not about to go searching for another hostel at midnight. I checked into my room and passed out with my clothes on.