Winning team in Bundhaka. I don't know what time it was because it was always dark.
Siesta on the train and still half convalescent I found Alfon in the center of the city. Stop forced to leave the backpack and at 7.15 in the afternoon I saw myself with a rum-tail in my hand in a huge, dark and full booby to the top of thirties who did not look at the clock to not know that a long night awaited them.
The thing starts, every weekend, at about 1 in the afternoon. People gather on the terraces, the innumerable bars of the Tejares and Concepción streets to start drinking fifths of beer, wines and tapas that will serve as a base until dinner.
Cafetito and the crowd leave Tejares street to concentrate on the Concepción.
Bars like Bundhaka, Rum, Gintoneria, Bolshoi, Owl or Cotton are filled with people wanting to have fun, furtive glances at objectives of the other sex -or of the same-, drinks at 5 euros -or 4 if you have been collecting the discounts offered by public relations in the street- and all seasoned with enough music commercial. The messing is served.
We choose the Bundhaka but we changed every half hour at most. It is what you have having restless ass friends. I had not seen Alfon for almost 2 years but I lost track of the others 9 years ago and it was a luxury to see them again and give us some great laughs at the rhythm of rum-cola and memories of those years.
At 10 of the night there is a stop on the road in which the weak leave and go to their homes, but the strong have dinner to endure the long hours left until dawn.
In this case it coincided with Madrid-BarÇa and we got box seats in one of the few empty bars in Concepción. Pizzas, beer and another victory culé later - and those that I still have to endure - we return to the Bundhaka struggle.
The change was for good because the music swallowed the master lessons that our friend Culé, Busi, tried to get us in the head. Pep is a beginner by his side!
We resume the march and end up in the Swing, which closes something later than 4 in the morning. The rest of the bars on Concepción Street close their doors soon, close to 3, although - for those who have been driving since noon - it may not be a bad withdrawal time. There are people who have been accompanied long before and the night is good.
Only Alfon and I survived the Swing and we went to find another place that closed later. The Tiare, in the words of Alfon “close for milkman's time"-Very good! - and it is the place where you will meet again with the girls -or boys- whom you have been seeing all night and who have not wanted to go home either. It will be your last approach opportunity!
In the end we got a little ahead of the milkman because - like Santa Claus - we didn't want to catch him in fraganti arriving home, and we left at 6.30.
He was broken after two days giving everything but very happy to have gone to Albacete despite the fatigue. It was great to see all these characters again and Albacete's march made me remember why I had her as one of the best in Spain. TTBoy thanks you guys!
Dedicated to the great Alfon, Chino, Busi, Josean, Rodri, Ricar, Jota ... and Red Eagle! -what beautiful! - as well as those who could not be.5.001