The following is the first chapter of a story, one that I will continuously add to every now and then. It is not real and hasn’t been properly thought out. I write this as I go along. I literally have no idea where any of this is going. – MM
It was raining, and I could hear the drops hit the window of our hotel. It was an unfamiliar place, even though it was the end of our journey. This hotel was conveniently located near the airport, making a mid-night flight a lot easier. I vowed to myself to stay awake, as I would prefer to sleep on the plane. Though whether that occurs seems to be up to chance.
I asked the reception earlier on where the closest restaurant was, who replied that there were a few establishments a few minutes walk from our building. As I somewhat expected, there wasn’t much. I chose a little restaurant that had a closet-sized kitchen. There were a few locals sitting at the bar, who seemed to know the server intimately. There was some American music playing, which seemed out of place for Madrid. Now that I think about it, I haven’t heard any English music other than the ones I brought on my phone. It felt almost strange, almost as if this was the final stop of my journey. It was the final stop of my journey, but the world didn’t really know that.
I watched as one of the two servers was working at the bar, cleaning the glasses and organizing whatever it was she needed to organize. She periodically sang along, voice and all, to any Beyonce song that was playing. Anyone could tell she had actual talent, considering she could hit those high notes better than most people who attempt them. It was comforting to know what her passion was and where her interests lie. It made her human.
At this point, I was only ordering food because it would be a late night. I had taken the train from Malaga to Madrid, and then a taxi from the station in Atocha all the way to the airport. This journey in itself was closer to four hours, but it felt long. I’ve always felt like a trip abroad felt like living another life. This moment was slow enough that I could digest all the fast moments that just passed me.
So here I was, sitting inside of the only restaurant open that I could find thinking about all the moments that just passed me. Don’t get me wrong, though; I was not dreading the next step. I was looking forward to it.
Madrid is a very special place, and I definitely recommend you end up going there one day. That was, however, not the reason why this trip was so special. That was barely what I remember. I had met someone, or rather two people, that made this trip more of an adventure.
That last sentence echoed in my mind. I took out my notebook and began to write.