Spain: World Cup CHAMPIONS!!

Celebrating after Spain's win in Plaza España

Things quickly got out of control!

When it comes to the subject of being interested in soccer, I have two strikes against me: First, I'm american, where football rules all, and second, I'm gay, which means unless the sport is played shirtless or involves heavy contact (or some wonderful combination of the two), I'd rather be getting a manicure; However, seeing as how the people living around me have the wonderful habit of lighting explosives whenever anything interesting happens in the game, I figured I should probably just give in and watch it, if nothing else than at least to know when the sudden loud noises would be coming.

Let me start this paragraph off by stating this: Soccer players are cute. Especially the Spanish ones. And, as it turns out, watching sports with other gay men is fun, because they don't know any of the rules either, and it's almost eerie, like they have the ability to read the dirty thoughts you're thinking about the players.

Example:

In my head: "....kick...WOW!...butt..."

My friend Andy: "Did you see him kicking that goal foul-shot thingie? WOW! What a butt!!

Creepy.

Other than gratuitously oogling the players, it was fun and exciting to hear the entire city scream in unison when spain was close to a goal, and it's probably the one time the neighbors aren't going to complain about the noise, so people definitely take advantage of the opportunity to hoot and holler.

So, fast forward through the night: Spain wins, Spain's goalie Casillas cries, the room full of gay men cries, then we move on to Plaza España to celebrate...and celebrate people did! It sort of reminded me of one of those apocalyptic movies where there's only dismay and disorder and people give themselves over to hedonism, except this probably had more fireworks involved. After celebrating for a couple of hours, and by celebrating I mean breaking and/or climbing everything in sight, (lamp-posts, roofs of busstops, national monuments) law and order was suddenly restored to the plaza thanks to a swat team, who, upon their arrival caused a stampede that nearly trampled me. They were shooting bags of sand at people and when my friend slowed down to grab his shoe that had fallen off of him, he was swiftly introduced to the baton of one of the police officers. Luckily we all made it out of the plaza fine and then found one another, retired home and tried to sleep through the chanting, horn honking, and fireworks that lasted the rest of the night.