If the statue of liberty were stationed in Spain, the inscription would read:
Give me your sexy, your tanned,
Your well-chiseled masses yearning to get drunk.
At least, it would have if the sculpture had attended that celebratory concert (see J´s previous post). Seriously, 250,000 of the most beautiful people I have ever seen were jumping around, singing, chanting and sipping off 69 cent boxes of wine. There was red everywhere. It was like swimming through a blood stream. We arrived early, found seats on a small hill towards the back of the arena, and watched thousands upon thousands of red dots flood into the concert area. J and I felt a little guilty, hiding our faces behind red baseball caps (victorious schwag) and sunglasses. It was not our victory, but when 249,998 people around you are singing "we are the champions" (yes, by queen), even the jetlag could not stop us from singing along. We chanted, we danced, we celebrated. Eventually after 3 hours of roasting in the sun (our hill was sadly out of the spray zone), still hours before the futbol-lers actually arrived onstage, we fought our way upstream and back to the hotel. I wonder if this is what it was like when the conquisidors returned home, or old fashioned celebrations for the king and queen. In our modern era, when war is a four letter word, domination on the international futbol field deserves the hero´s welcome. Spain was a rich and powerful country for hundreds of years; that celebration seemed like a grab at the glory of the old days. A chance for the modern era to say to the history that overshadows it, to sing from the riverfront, "we are champions AGAIN."
Next, J and Kali go Back to the Future!
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