Day 4: Hace dos días

What I saw:

1. 4 really cute students in the corner of the cafe before school starts
2. boy on steps cruising me 'cause we're wearing similar penguin hoodies
3. my whiteboard a mess with new vocabulary
4. 2 Elluminate screens while training a teacher
5. implant specialist putting xray film in my mouth
6. puddles of my sweat on each side of gym treadmill — interval training
7. cards on floor of Spanish class
8. full(ish) moon over London Eye, lit up blue
9. late night omelet in a frying pan
10. my new bf Andy Dwyer on P&R as I crash on sofa

7. Cards of the floor of Spanish class

Lupe has multi-colored sets of cards, all with sentences. She explains we have to put them in order. Each one has a sentence, and when the task is over we'll have a story. My partner and I get the yellow set. It will be a race.

Lupe asks if we want to work at our escritorios or en el suelo. Without answering, I'm out of my chair and on the nasty, industrial carpeted suelo. My classmates follow suit. I'm so exhausted from the intervals I did before class (speedwork kills) that I just want to lie down. Even if it's on a classroom floor that has years of shoe shit trampled into it.  It feels hard, coarse and just a little itchy.  It could in fact be the most inviting sleeping surface I've ever been prostrate upon. If I had a blanket, I'd be sound asleep, like a toddler in a pram being pushed down a crowded city street. I envy their ability to sleep anywhere; or perhaps just the fact their yummy mummies pump them full of Benadryl before going out on a shopping spree.

As best I can tell, the story is about a trip to a safari park and a woman feeds her apples to an elephant, who then gets his trunk stuck in her car window.  Drama ensues. Lucy and Ethel go to the safari park.

I don't recognize many of the words, but can suss out enough key phrases to figure out the order of the story. While my partner wastes time looking up words in the dictionary (it's a race, remember?) I drag the cards across the carpet into some semblance of order.  Classmates' whispers of English and Spanish translations breeze through the recycled air. Lupe walks above us, in sandals instead of her usual white go-go boots (she's fab), answering ¿como se dice? questions.

The cute Ibiza boy, who you may remember from a previous Spanish post, is on the floor next to me. He's working with his friend, my namesake, who's not only a member of the team, but could very well be a team captain.  Yup, Spanish class is pretty much a gay bar.

We finish ahead of the other teams. Lupe checks our answers, we made no mistakes, and I want to fall into a celebratory, ¿como se dice coma?.