The I-Know-Where-I-Am Dance

Ever do the I-Know-Where-I-Am Dance?

I did it last night.
Got myself completely helplessly lost at 5 in the morning.
Well not completely... the character I was with said he knew where he was...
then he kept changing his mind.
And then he left.

Maybe I should start at the beginning.
Unable to meet my friends, I parked it at a local waterhole to chat with the bartenders and see how they mix up a cocktail in Spain.
Between making the cheapest beer last the longest, I actually got some new tricks.
Whoever gets lucky enough to try my next Mojito... prepare to be astounded.
Matt and Diana... that´s you.
Also tried a beer mixed with Fanta limon... surprisingly good, but I won´t make you guys try that.

Anyway, my new friend starts talking to me about Dali... asking some of the most interesting questions I have heard in a while.

"Tell me what is your writing... use two words please"

He told me:

"That which you create must come from your universe, brought into existence for you and no one else... it talkes balls, sensivity, abandon, violence, thought."

He had a face that was weather worn, making it impossible to guess his age.
White scruff sprouted under sun beaten cheeks.
He had features carved by countless experiences.
They spoke a language all their own, complete with well worn expressions of deep thought.

When one bar closed, we migrated to another.
Winding down back allies, covering distance.
I tried to keep a bearing, but eventually had to give up.

Lean and sturdy, he walked with a purpose ...equally stopped with a purpose to point out a fountain made by Dali or a mural made by someone else, asking what it resembled to my eye.

He wouldn´t tell me his nationality because it carried a meaning that wasn´t his.
I can relate to that.

He regretfully accepted my email, apologizing for he did not operate in cyberspace... he mourned friends unknown to me... lost to time, and distance. I could see it behind his eyes.
I knew I would not see him again.
He taught me a slight of hand game... we played for cheap beers.

And then he disappeared into the night.
I chose a direction and started walking.

Figueres is a busy tourist town by day, and a deserted ghost town by night.
I didn´t see a soul.
Flip flops echoing on cobbled streets and bouncing up into the night off shuttered windows.
I followed my shadow.
And then suddenly I knew where I was.

I broke out my dance in the middle of the empty square.
A little booty shake, jump kick spin and groove.
I even gave myself an encore performance.
Then walked to bed.

It was a good night.