Upon my arrival in Madrid, my hosts, friends Josie and Emma, informed me of a sad fact: clubbing until 5am the next day was a requirement.
That Halloween night/morning, I walked a bit slanted around The Host, incessantly saying “lo siento” to myself and confusing everyone around me. (I was practicing!) I snuck onto the stage of a private party, where absolutely no one spoke English, and for something like an hour, we all jumped around, sharing mere motion and yells, dancing and screaming and enjoying the scene.
Inevitably I was spotted. The security approached me, but then one of the private partygoers said something to the guard, and then to me, and then frothed his hands forward with an encouraging nod. I imagine he said something like "just say you're with me" or "give him a few euros" —and it was beautifully devastating that our connection had already reached its peak, had lasted so far without words, and I was thrown out.