Fail Boxes Etc.

Over the past few days in Madrid, a few things have become clear:

I have an eating disorder...

...and my sister and I are idiots.

Let's discuss the food first.

Now, this is not a food blog.  And I fully understand that no one really cares what I'm eating.

But HOLY CRAP.  These chocolate churros are insanity.

We went to a place called Miranda around the corner from our Air BNB...

...where we fell in love with the food ...

...the staff...

...and the decor.

The dinner was refreshing.

In fact, it was a goddamned delight.

My personal favorite was the eggplant chips...

...served with a traditional tomato soup.

It is, by far, the best thing I've put in my mouth in Madrid.

And I'm somewhat of an expert, since I've been eating everything under the sun...

..as well as the sun itself.

(Sorry, everyone.)

Anyway...now to the idiot portion of our stay in Madrid.

Donna decided that she wanted to ship some stuff back to the states.  So, we found a Mail Boxes Etc kind of near us.  (Apparently, they are still in business in Spain.)  The plan was for Donna, John and I to drop her shit off and then go out for tapas and drinks and enjoy the day.

And then tragedy struck.

We got to the address, and there was no MBE there.  The cab driver pulled over and we hopped out of the car, hoping it was just hidden somewhere.  You know, since businesses often like to keep their locales secret.

And then tragedy struck again.

As we were getting out of the cab, John cut his finger on the door handle and nearly sliced his finger off.    There was a lot of blood...

...and it wouldn't stop.

Obviously, instead of seeking medical attention, we stopped (and bled upon) a handsome UPS driver and tried to convince him to just give us a box and a label and take it away...

... but the language barrier prevented a package exchange.  Unfortunately.

Dejected, we began to wander the streets looking for medical attention for John, who was beginning to get woozy.

Suddenly, we heard a ruckus behind us.

It was the UPS driver again, running toward us.  Apparently, he used the trail of blood from John's sliced open finger to track us down.

He gave us a phone number to call, and then ran off like a superhero.

We didn't call the number, instead opting to walk aimlessly in the hopes of finding a place to ship her items.

We finally found a place that wanted to charge nearly 250 Euros to ship a very small pretty light weight box to the States.

Donna opted against this plan, and nearly climbed into the box herself.  It was around this time that John finally bled out, so we'll be Weekend-at-Bernies-ing him for the rest of the trip.

More later!