The Spanish Job
In my early 20s, studying architecture at university, I got to go to Barcelona for a week as part of a site visit.

12 of us arrived at the airport and got allocated 4 to a hire car - if only they'd been red, white and blue...

Tutors in car #1 zoom off telling us to follow them. I'm driving the last one, trying to keep the first two in sight.

Anyway, the tutors head for the sea-front and start wandering round and round side streets, obviously unable to find the place they are looking for. We all park up and look at a map, then off we go again in convoy.

Car #1 heads into a car park that borders the sea, then out through a small gate at the back. Lots of shouting from locals as car #2 does the same.

As we reach the gate, car #1 has disappeared from view and car #2 has come to a halt where car #1 disappeared. We roll up slowly, the locals now gesturing at us too. It appears we are on a pedestrian esplanade.

Car #2 now disappears - down a steep flight of steps. What to do? It's only a hire car and my tutor paid for it, so we gamely join in, waving out the windows at the same time for added effect.

Lots of bumping about, apologising in spanish and swerving around some of the older residents later, we arrive at the place our tutor was heading for.

It's a petrol station.
( chthonic, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 14:53, Reply)