More Barcelona memories...

I hung out at a bar called Padam-Padam (story to follow at a later date, this is more about the hotel) and when it closed I would go over to another bar called Dicken's. Dicken's was owned by a very gruff, older French man who I befriended. As I'm sitting there, a straight couple walk in looking for a late night drink. Later, while in the washroom, the "straight" guy grabs my cock and starts kissing me. All I could hear was him whispering "I leave grill", which translates to "I'm going to drop my girlfriend at home... what hotel are you staying at?"

Flash-forward 3 hours later: The bed in the cheap-ass hotel has broken while we were bumping uglies, the floor is drenched in wine and the guy tells me that he's a professional clown in a circus. Then he has a sexual identity crisis and starts crying. When he asked me for advice, I simply told him that I could not believe that this sad creature was, in actual fact, a clown. That didn't help. I thanked him for the hump and told him to go home to his grill.