And if I bring a little music I can fit right in

The room is beautiful and quiet. We lay on the bed with our eyes toward the ceiling, neither one of us getting to our feet. There's a bathroom with fresh towels and a shower with hot water. It took us a second to figure out how to turn the lights on, the woman at the desk had to tell us to put the room key in the light switch. The room was illuminated in an instant. There were side table lamps that extended out of the walls, a large round bulb that was mounted in the ceiling, and several recessed lights all filling the room with a soft white glow. We laid there for a while enjoying the calm and the crisp sheets our hands at our sides or on the others arms. BJ discovered the mini bar and the tiny diet coke in a glass bottle. There were no grocers in Madrid, no bodegas or fruit stands. Where did these people get their food? Don't they cook for themselves ever? We eventually left to explore the rows upon rows of restaurants and bars that made up the city. We had a beer in a cafe and then found a place that seemed a bit quieter than most. I ordered the day's special- a trio of toast- one with ham, the other with spanish casserole, and the third with a blue cheese mixture. We drank very large San Miguel's and took funny pictures of each other. I got pretty drunk and started in on my usual, "I love you I love you I love you" routine. At one point I steadied myself long enough to make the trek to the bathroom in the back, and again pretended to soberly walk back. I'm sure it was obvious but BJ let me be drunk and didn't make fun of me for it. On the way back I wished for a beligian waffle dipped in chocolate, like the one in London. It had this doughy texture like it hadn't been fully cooked and the chocolate ran down your fingertips obscenely. That was perfect late night food. But here there was only a walk back to the hotel and a minibar to be raided. It was final, madrid lacked the proper late night snack joint but it made up for it in cheap beer and cold wind.