SATURDAY I PARTIED WITH “THE KIDS!” – THE END.
Just kidding! About the “-The End” part, I mean.
For purposes of this story, I’m referring to, specifically, “The Kids” ages 21 to 29 years. The untamed. The energetic. The romantically idealistic ones – sprinkled with just a bit of cynicism and barely crumbs of fear.
Oh…Just, basically, the ones who drink a lot of beer and can buy it for themselves.
Just so we’re clear.
This past Good Friday, the Friday before Easter, I met Jesus. Yep, that’s right…Jesus!
Jesus from Barcelona bought me two shots of whiskey at a little jazz club on the corner of Calle Fernando Colon and Calle Pedro Lopez in Cordoba, Spain. He could barely speak English. I could barely speak Spanish. Yet, over the whisky and a lot of sign language, we became fast friends.
Yes! I got to be in Cordoba, Spain on a Good Friday courtesy of my now-rapidly dwindling savings account.
What put me in Cordoba, Spain on that early Good Friday morning?