LA HISTORIA...
Aun hoy no recuerdo como empez todo, quiz en el restaurante chino, donde los ingredientes y las salsas hacen de la cena una golosina; quiz en "los pinchitos" con sus pescados de carne blanca que despiertan los sentidos, o quiz en "la charca", donde la carne trmula y el calor de la brasa te devuelven a un pasado primitivo... era fin de semana y as todo empieza bien. Con la gente de siempre, los mejores con quin sino lo pasaramos mejor?. Y a la hora convenida cada mochuelo a su olivo, los que eran de casa para casa y los que no a lo nuestro; y lo nuestro era el troxodbar, aquella ruta que se hacia irresistible noche tras noche de los fines de semana.
TROpical-XOlas-Dcafe-BA Rrock, as era todo. Los cuatro mejores bares de San Cristobal de la Laguna, ciudad universitaria de la isla de Tenerife, pais de Espaa. Una ruta pulida al centmetro, medida al segundo, a su hora y en su sitio, y creedme, nunca cansaba. Y el fin de semana que no lo hacias te faltaba algo... baile tras baile y sudor tras sudor, enroscando la botella de cerveza, agitando la botella de smirnoff iban pasando los beats, los technos, los ojos bonitos, los labios rojos y las melenas rubias, pelirojas, morenas... pero como los buenos "cenicientos" a las seis de la maana hay que irse porque la guagua no espera. Subimos deseando en silencio no tener la compaa de los anulados mentales que se creen que son ms "xaxis que te cambas" por ir gritando en la guagua y sus compaeras, femeninas por fuera y que en cuanto abren la boca se asemejan ms a un travestido kinki con el rimel mal puesto. Asientos dobles, a la derecha del vehculo pblico y con la distribucin de siempre, Mikelonsi en ventanilla, Jaimish pasillo. Y en la avenida sucede... miro y lo veo.
-Mikelonsi, gira la cabeza.- l mira y lo ve.
Y all estaba, la leyenda que todos hemos oido y nadie a visto... negra como el carbn, paso despreocupado, mediana para las de su especie... era ella... la gallina que cruz la carretera. Pensars que estabamos borrachos, te equivocas. Nosotros lo vimos. Y, efectivamente, lo hizo para llegar al otro lado... damos fe.
THE HISTORY...
Even now I still do not remember how it all began. Perhaps at the Chinese restaurant, where ingredients and sauces make the dinner taste like sweets; maybe at "Los Pinchitos" with its dishes of white fish that awake the senses; or maybe at "La Charca", where the tender meat and the ember's heat transport you to a primitive past... It was weekend and so, everything begins well. With the usual people, the best. Who else would it be funnier than with them? And at the accorded time everyone to their place. Those who liked to stay at home went home and those who didn't, to our bussines. And our bussines was "The Troxodbar": that mystic route that became irresistible for us every single nigth of every single weekend. Tropical-Txola-Dcafe-Barrock, that was it. The four best clubs of San Cristobal de La Laguna, university's city in the island of Tenerife, Spain. A route polished in its very millimetre, mesured in its very minute, at its time and its place, and believe me, it was never boring. And if any weekend you did not do it, something was missing.
Dance after dance, sweat after sweat, screwing the bottle of beer in our mouths, agitating the bottle of Smirnoff the beats went by, and the technos, and the pretty eyes, and the red lips, and the black, brown, fair and ginger long hairs...
But like all good Cinderellas, at six in the morning we had to go, for the bus doesn't wait for anybody. We got it silently, wishing not to meet those empty-headed retarded-ones that think they are cool becuase they shout on the bus, and their girlfriends, feminine in appearance, but more like junkie-transvestites with their make-up badly put on.
Double seats, on the rigth side of the public vehicle with the usual distribution: Mikelonsi on the window, Jaimish on the corridor. And in the avenue, it happened... I look and I see it. -Mikelonsi, turn your head- and he looks and sees it. And there it was, the legend that we all have heard of but no one has seen... Black like coal, stepping unworried, middle size for those of its species... so it was... the hen that crossed over the road! You will think that we were drunk. You are wrong. We saw it. And, exactly, it did it to get to the other side. We can say so!
xx kiss for all from spain...
Aun hoy no recuerdo como empez todo, quiz en el restaurante chino, donde los ingredientes y las salsas hacen de la cena una golosina; quiz en "los pinchitos" con sus pescados de carne blanca que despiertan los sentidos, o quiz en "la charca", donde la carne trmula y el calor de la brasa te devuelven a un pasado primitivo... era fin de semana y as todo empieza bien. Con la gente de siempre, los mejores con quin sino lo pasaramos mejor?. Y a la hora convenida cada mochuelo a su olivo, los que eran de casa para casa y los que no a lo nuestro; y lo nuestro era el troxodbar, aquella ruta que se hacia irresistible noche tras noche de los fines de semana.
TROpical-XOlas-Dcafe-BA Rrock, as era todo. Los cuatro mejores bares de San Cristobal de la Laguna, ciudad universitaria de la isla de Tenerife, pais de Espaa. Una ruta pulida al centmetro, medida al segundo, a su hora y en su sitio, y creedme, nunca cansaba. Y el fin de semana que no lo hacias te faltaba algo... baile tras baile y sudor tras sudor, enroscando la botella de cerveza, agitando la botella de smirnoff iban pasando los beats, los technos, los ojos bonitos, los labios rojos y las melenas rubias, pelirojas, morenas... pero como los buenos "cenicientos" a las seis de la maana hay que irse porque la guagua no espera. Subimos deseando en silencio no tener la compaa de los anulados mentales que se creen que son ms "xaxis que te cambas" por ir gritando en la guagua y sus compaeras, femeninas por fuera y que en cuanto abren la boca se asemejan ms a un travestido kinki con el rimel mal puesto. Asientos dobles, a la derecha del vehculo pblico y con la distribucin de siempre, Mikelonsi en ventanilla, Jaimish pasillo. Y en la avenida sucede... miro y lo veo.
-Mikelonsi, gira la cabeza.- l mira y lo ve.
Y all estaba, la leyenda que todos hemos oido y nadie a visto... negra como el carbn, paso despreocupado, mediana para las de su especie... era ella... la gallina que cruz la carretera. Pensars que estabamos borrachos, te equivocas. Nosotros lo vimos. Y, efectivamente, lo hizo para llegar al otro lado... damos fe.
THE HISTORY...
Even now I still do not remember how it all began. Perhaps at the Chinese restaurant, where ingredients and sauces make the dinner taste like sweets; maybe at "Los Pinchitos" with its dishes of white fish that awake the senses; or maybe at "La Charca", where the tender meat and the ember's heat transport you to a primitive past... It was weekend and so, everything begins well. With the usual people, the best. Who else would it be funnier than with them? And at the accorded time everyone to their place. Those who liked to stay at home went home and those who didn't, to our bussines. And our bussines was "The Troxodbar": that mystic route that became irresistible for us every single nigth of every single weekend. Tropical-Txola-Dcafe-Barrock, that was it. The four best clubs of San Cristobal de La Laguna, university's city in the island of Tenerife, Spain. A route polished in its very millimetre, mesured in its very minute, at its time and its place, and believe me, it was never boring. And if any weekend you did not do it, something was missing.
Dance after dance, sweat after sweat, screwing the bottle of beer in our mouths, agitating the bottle of Smirnoff the beats went by, and the technos, and the pretty eyes, and the red lips, and the black, brown, fair and ginger long hairs...
But like all good Cinderellas, at six in the morning we had to go, for the bus doesn't wait for anybody. We got it silently, wishing not to meet those empty-headed retarded-ones that think they are cool becuase they shout on the bus, and their girlfriends, feminine in appearance, but more like junkie-transvestites with their make-up badly put on.
Double seats, on the rigth side of the public vehicle with the usual distribution: Mikelonsi on the window, Jaimish on the corridor. And in the avenue, it happened... I look and I see it. -Mikelonsi, turn your head- and he looks and sees it. And there it was, the legend that we all have heard of but no one has seen... Black like coal, stepping unworried, middle size for those of its species... so it was... the hen that crossed over the road! You will think that we were drunk. You are wrong. We saw it. And, exactly, it did it to get to the other side. We can say so!
xx kiss for all from spain...
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
riae:
diva:
Thanks for the request nostro hermano 
!
!