Barcelona Paint Job by John Nahay
I was on vacation in a little villa in Barcelona, Spain. My hotel room overlooked the next hotel. The bright Spanish sun warmed this beautiful, September morn. It would be the last week of summer, I thought, with sadness. I knew my summer fun would be over soon. Fortunately, my greatest fun was about to unfold. The hotels in this part of Barcelona were classic Spanish-style architecture, with pretty little balconies and flowerpots filled with lovely roses adorning their rims. Hanging ferns drooped lazily from the ceilings above.
I was looking across the street to the neighboring hotel, just mindlessly watching two painters on a scaffold painting the outer stucco walls of the hotel. It was an unusual sight for a hotel: bright, multicolors: green, purple, red, yellow, and blue. The paints looked like thick latex-type paints. Clearly, to cover this building, a LOT of paint had to be used. Somehow, those rowdy Olympic athletes and their fans had pretty much marred and marked the outside of this hotel in 1992. I have NO idea how marks of paint could have gotten up 10 meters in the air. Had decathletes been pole-vaulting up to the wall for fun? Had the Spanish soccer team been kicking soccer balls against the wall for practice? Whatever the reason, the small vandalism had given the hotel managers an excuse to repaint the entire hotel.
Just as this thought had left my brain, another one entered: a beautiful señorita in a white, billowy dress walked out onto the balcony just one floor below the painters! She was the kind of model you see in those hilarious Mexican *** comedies. She had dark, long hair which ended in a curl to her shoulders. She was buxom. She had a wide smile, sparkling eyes, and red, red lips (lipstick, obviously). What was even more amazing was what she had on underneath her dress! She had on a black bra and black *******! These were clearly visible through her sheer white dress.
This señorita walked up to the metal grating of her balcony and leaned forward to greet her fellow Barcelonians. She waved to the street below. She smiled as if the morning air could understand her warm salutations. Then, to my utter astonishment, she WINKED at me! At me! A dumb American jerk! She winked at me! I was so nervous I could not move. I did not know what I should do. Should I wave back? What if I were wrong? What if she really were NOT winking at me? What a fool I’d be! Should I just wink back?
I was getting hot, already hot on this morning which was quickly warming up as the sun rose higher and higher. Thankfully, I did NOT have to make a decision about how to react, because the unthinkable happened, saving me from the embarrassment of being wrong.
It happened too quickly for me to see. I do not know what was the cause. But, I suddenly hear a loud snap and crash! I then saw the two painters lying on a plank at a 45-degree angle, hanging on to some ropes, while their numerous buckets of bright paint began slipping down the plank. I KNEW where those buckets were headed!
As a normal reaction, the señorita heard the loud catastrophe in action and looked STRAIGHT UP! I could not believe what was about to happen! She stood there looking up, as if WAITING for the first bucket to hit her, but I don’t think she knew. The first bucket of paint slid off the end of the plank and did a somersault after its bottom rim got caught on a small nail in the plank.
The bucket was heading upside down and STRAIGHT towards the señorita’s face! SPLAT! It was green. Heavy green glop splattered all over the balcony as the bucket covered her head. Green paint rushed out all over her dress. She stood there, trying to balance herself, grabbing at the bucket to remove it from her head.
She managed to pull the bucket off her head, like in a vaudeville act. Her head was one big glob of green paint! I could see her blow air through her nose and try to catch a breath. She gave a few puffs through the green paint, then sputtered. Her chest was now green, as well as the top part of her previously white dress. But, that was not all!
Just like clockwork, the laws of physics repeated themselves, as another bucket, this time blue, came cascading over the edge of the plank. I could tell it was blue since some of it bounced and splashed out on its journey down the plank. Like the first bucket of paint, this one, too, somersaulted directly onto the señorita’s head.
Again, she pulled the bucket off her head. This time, her head was a globular mixture of blue and green. The paint was thick. The buckets must have held 10 gallons minimum. Again, she stumbled around, looking for something with which to balance herself. I was beside myself enjoying this comedic sight. By this second bucketful, so much paint had been spilled that her dress now was ENTIRELY colored The paint had begun to soak through to her underwear.
The señorita kept wiping paint from her face and eyes. But, there was too much of it. It was as if the paint had stockpiled in her hair and was just continuously releasing it onto her face and chest. Again, the laws of physics prevailed, as 2 more buckets tumbled onto her.
This time, they tumbled simultaneously, both vying to hit their target, and ending each hitting a shoulder simultaneously. She shook her arms, now one bright yellow, the other bright red, vigorously. She continued shaking and wiping. But, the situation grew worse for her. 3 more buckets were yet to follow, and her balcony had grown slippery and hazardous.
She grabbed for the railing. Instead, the balcony floor grabbed her rear end. She fell– PLOP!- onto the balcony floor, slipping and sliding in all the paint that had fallen before. As she sat there covered in paint, the final 3 buckets of paint had their say. 2 buckets: purple and white smashed onto the balcony floor beside her, spraying paint EVERYWHERE.
Then, the final bucket: thick, black paint, repeated the first bucket’s approach and landed upside down onto señorita’s head. She just sat there for a while, resigned to her messy situation, with the final bucket on her head. Finally, she knew she had to remove it. As she did, black paint poured out, having been wedged in there between the top of her head and the bucket. Her head and face were invisible. Black paint rained down to the balconies below.
She just sat there, black paint covering her voluptuous body. She didn’t even bother wiping any of it off. I thought to myself: should I run to get my camera? Will this be my only opportunity? I reacted faster than I thought: I ran back inside my hotel room, grabbed my camera, ran back outside the balcony, and began furiously snapping photos at the painted señorita She was still sitting there as if hoping all this pain would magically disappear.
Having run through an entire roll of film. The señorita got up, returned to her hotel room, and, I assume, took a long, hot shower. The painters had lifted themselves onto the balcony above and were probably madly looking for the señorita to apologize. Well, there’s one happy fella to whom those painters need not apologize. They had just made my vacation in Spain something to remember!
Well, too soon did our peeping Tom of Barcelona return to his hotel room. No sooner than he went back inside, assuming the senorita paint festival was over, did the señorita return to the balcony, STILL covered in paint. The painters got to see her walk out again with cloths and rags in hand. She probably figured there was no point in her getting cleaned up before she cleaned up the balcony.
She should have used a hose just to hose off the concrete floor. Instead, she walked right out into it again. The black paint covered her entire face and upper torso. She began bending over to wipe up the mess. Clearly, this work was usually beneath her. That instantly changed as she slipped and fell AGAIN onto the sticky swirling mass of paint.
Infuriated this time, she slammed down her towels and began to pick herself up. But, unlike the first time, the paint was beginning to thicken and dry. As she pulled herself up, her dress pulled itself off!
She was left standing on the balcony in broad daylight, covered in black, green, blue, red, and yellow paint, … standing there, half **** to the world, in her black bra and *******! Those titbits of clothing saved her from total ******. They had an elegance, not unlike the early bikinis of the 1960s.
She was grabbed herself around the chest and crotch and bent over, trying to cover herself. But, it was too late. The dress had torn in half. She realized that she had better get back indoors soon… certainly before the paint dried the door to her hotel room shut! Then, she’d have no escape except outside down the fire escape!
What do you suppose happens next?