My husband is a notorious over-packer. While I feel prepared by consuming all of the information I can on a specific topic, he prepares by bringing everything we MAY need. “Seriously, we don’t need headlamps in Spain,” I told him before we left New York. In response, he packed two as I shook my head.
Spain takes Valentine’s Day seriously. The streets were busy early in the morning until late at night. Everywhere I looked, women held flowers as men rushed around with red boxes. Nearly every restaurant had a special menu for the evening and every table was booked through the night. We didn’t make a reservation but figured we’d stumble upon an open table at some point. I know, I know, you’re probably thinking “an open table on Valentine’s Day?!” That proved to be a statistical impossibility and my high-heeled feet wanted no more hunting. We decided to get a pizza “para llevar” and head home. This, if you know me, sounds like the perfect date anyway.
We got our pizza (for 5 euros!) and walked home. As I entered the apartment and hit the light switch – a flash, a small explosion, and then my feet were showered in glass. Somehow two lightbulbs blew up and power was knocked out to the entire apartment. By this time, it was 11:30 at night and we weren’t sure what to do. We called Valero (our gracious Airbnb host) who, as it turns out, also had no idea what to do and didn’t quite understand what “lightbulb” meant. I couldn’t come up with the Spanish word for it either.
Enter Jared: eternal boy scout.
Clearly, I was wrong about that headlamp thing. There, I said it. Not only did we have pizza, we now had light! Jared eventually located the fuse box and had power back up and running by the time we went to bed. It wasn’t how we thought our Valentine’s Day date would go; it was better. People who think candlelight is romantic clearly haven’t eaten dinner by the soft glow of dual headlamps.
What’s your best Valentine’s Day story? Share it in the comments below!