anyone who has spent more than ten minutes with me in madrid will contest to the fact that i hold a special disdain for accordians. their attempted play for old-world charm is so trite it midas well be a werther's commercial. the accordian ranks up there with the fiddle as instruments i wouldn't miss if i never heard them again in my life. the accordian repetoire consists of a maximum of six overbearingly precious tunes that hold all the freshness of a mariachi band.
now add this to a crowded smelly metro train, amplified by a dime-store speaker system powered by a gerbil in a treadmill and you will understand why i dislike these whiny puffed-up casio synthesizers.
and yet, yet.
was is the crisp breeze blowing across the plaza this morning? the eleven o'clock sunlight finally cutting a swath through the morning mist? was it the yellow leaves scraping across the sidewalk; was it my wool scarf scratching across my face? was it that i had just got paid?
was it the song, pumped loyally by the toothless old spaniard: "strangers in the night," certainly outside of the usual playlist?
did i really feel like spinning around? i was certainly smiling. and so, despite my rush, despite having two banks to go to, not to mention the grocery store, before work, i stopped and dug through my wallet, tossing a fat two-euro coin into his greasy case. it made my whole day.