I’m both black and foreign, and I’m living in Spain. I went to a bus stop where a woman was sitting, and I casually sat down in the seat next to her. She immediately bounced up and walked several paces away from me, yelling, “Can I not have two seconds without some [racial insult] trying to get at me? What is wrong with you people?”

Here we go again, nothing new here. I pulled out my phone and pretended to be more interested in it than her ranting.

Woman: “Why are you even here, anyway? Did someone invite you? How would you like it if everyone in my country went and flooded your country and took up all your jobs and got your women pregnant and made a bunch of mixed kids, and none of us speak your language?”

I kept ignoring her.

She continued this rant for a good five minutes before suddenly growing quiet. She stayed quiet briefly before reaching into a shopping bag she had, removing a juice bottle, and trying to remove the cap. After twisting futilely, she got a look of defeat on her face. She slowly handed the bottle to me.

Woman: “Can you open my bottle, please? I’m feeling really dizzy.”

I gave her an ice-cold look at first, but then I decided to be the bigger person. I opened the bottle and silently handed it back.

Woman: “Thank you.”

She sat down and then spoke again after a few moments of silence.

Woman: “I’m sorry. I lost my job because of the health crisis, and I found out they gave my position to a Japanese girl who wasn’t even there for six months. I’m just so mad.”

Me: “Sorry to hear that. But blaming me for your problem isn’t going to solve anything.”

Woman: “I’m sorry.”

My bus eventually rolled up, and as I boarded and rolled away, I couldn’t help but notice the woman burying her face in her lap. It was interesting to hear from the other side of racism and bigotry, and to see one of the many pieces of the puzzle — this instance being misplaced anger.

In 2018, as a high school graduation gift, I go on a solo trip to Spain and Portugal. During the Madrid leg of the trip, I have booked a room at a hotel for four days, with the plan to take a train on the fourth day to leave for Seville. On the evening of the second day, I have this interaction.

Receptionist: “Good evening. How was your last day here in Madrid?”

Me: “It was great, thank you… Wait, last day? I still have two more days.”

Receptionist: “Are you sure? You appear to have booked for two days only; you’ll have to leave tomorrow.”

Me: “Did I? I’m pretty sure I booked for four nights, not two.”

Receptionist: *Smugly* “Well, I surely didn’t mess up writing it down, so…”

Me: *Trying to keep calm* “Are you absolutely, 100% sure? Can’t you double-check?”

Receptionist: “I’m certain beyond doubt and I won’t check again. So, prepare to check out tomorrow.”

I’m worried and kind of scared. I can’t change my train’s reservation, and even if I could, there is no guarantee the hotel in Seville will have a room available, anyway. But, keeping my calm, I go to my room and pack up hurriedly. After a night of troubled sleep, I go on a hunt for a new place to stay for two nights, taking me the entire morning searching the Internet and making physical visits, leaving me almost one hundred euros poorer than anticipated. The same day, in the evening, I receive a call.

Receptionist: *Sheepish* “Hello? Are we talking to Mr. [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes, what is it now?”

Receptionist: “Turns out, you did book for four days… I mixed up the room numbers. My manager asked me if you’d like a refund for the inconvenience, or if you want your room back.” 

Me: *Barely suppressing my rage* “I’d like to have a refund; I’m certainly not going back after nearly spending 100€ for a new place to sleep in.”

I did get my refund eventually, though I definitely noted the receptionist’s behaviour in the review for the hotel.

(I work as a waiter and bartender at an Irish pub in Spain that also serves restaurant food. I don’t speak Spanish but have picked up enough to get by when working — food, drinks, numbers, etc. I generally don’t have any language problems while working, but it’s obvious Spanish is not my native language. A Spanish customer has come in with his wife and son to eat lunch.)

Wife: *in Spanish* “I’ll have the chicken burger and a lemonade, please.”

Me: *in Spanish* “That’s fine.”

Son: *in Spanish* “And I’ll have fish and chips and a Coke.”

Me: *in Spanish* “Certainly.”

Husband: *speaks in Spanish too quickly and unintelligibly for me to understand*

Me: *in Spanish* “I’m sorry?”

Husband: *still speaks too quickly*

Me: *in English* “I’m sorry, I can’t quite understand that.”

Husband: *still speaking too quickly*

Me: “Maybe if you show me on the menu?”

Husband: *more unintelligible Spanish, getting annoyed*

(His wife then attempts to tell me what her husband wants, but he silences her.)

Husband: *more unintelligible Spanish*

(I think I finally understand the order and leave to give it to the cooks. When it’s ready, I bring the order back. The husband looks at his meal and then at me.)

Husband: *in perfect English* “I said I wanted the Irish Breakfast!”

This story is part of our Spain-themed roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

13 Cringeworthy True Stories About Tourists Who Have Absolutely No Clue

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(I work for a well-known pizza chain as a delivery guy, but I also occasionally answer the phone for pick-up orders.)

Me: “Welcome to [Pizza Chain]. How can I help you tonight?”

Customer: *silence, then muffled laughter*

Me: “Hello?”

Customer: *clumsily, as if he has trouble speaking* “Yeah, I… I’d like, uh… pizza.”

(By now it’s clear to me that he’s high as a kite.)

Me: “Okay, can you tell me your address, please?”

Customer: *muffled laughter*

Me: “Hello?”

Customer: “Say… If I don’t give you the address, you can’t deliver the pizza, right?”

Me: *deadpan* “Well, no.”

Customer: *hangs up*

(The same guy calls several times more, and all of the exchanges are exactly like this.)

Me: “Welcome to [Pizza Chain]. How can I help you tonight?”

Customer: *muffled laughter* “Yeah, uh…” *hangs up*

(My manager has been watching the whole thing, grinning.)

Me: “High as f***.”

Manager: “I figured.”

(Our Japanese restaurant is near a school that annually hosts an anime convention, so it’s fairly common to have cosplayers among our customers at the time of the con. The owner is okay with it as long as they don’t annoy the other customers. On this day, we seat twelve cosplayers and, later, I seat three young customers near them.)

Young Customer #1: “What is this? Why are those guys costumed?”

Me: “Oh, there’s a large anime convention ongoing at the local school. It’s rather common to see them at the times of the gathering.”

Young Customer #1: *chuckles* “Yeah, what a bunch of dorks.”

Young Customer #2: “Total nerds.”

(Since there are no other free tables and they didn’t pre-order a table, they sit near the cosplayers while mocking them under their breath. In the meantime, a cosplayer of Pikachu is talking somewhat loudly on his phone.)

Young Customer #2: *waves at me* “Hey, you! Tell those dorks to shut up!”

Halo Cosplayer: “Oh, I’m sorry, sir.” *to ‘Pikachu’* “Dude, not so loud. You’re bothering people.”

Pikachu Cosplayer: “What? Oh, sorry to bother you guys.” *starts talking again, but much quieter*

Young Customer #3: “Yeah, that’s right. Shut up, you virgin nerd!”

Young Customer #1: “Go back to the library, virgins!”

(At this point, I warn the owner about the behavior of the younger customers. He immediately goes to their table.)

Owner: “What seems to be the problem?”

Young Customer #1: “It’s not our fault. Those nerds started to insult us! We’re not going to stay here and do nothing!”

Owner: “My staff told me the contrary, actually.”

Young Customer #3: “What?! That b**** waitress is lying!”

Owner: “Sir, I won’t allow you to insult my staff or customers. Those cosplayers were extremely polite and quiet during their meals, unlike you. If someone must be thrown out, it’s you.”

(In the blink of an eye, one of the young customers gets up and tries to grab the owner. However, to our surprise, one of the cosplayers playing Batman grabs him by the hair, slams him on the table, and holds him still.)

Young Customer #1: “OW! That f***ing hurts! Who the f*** do you think you are, you motherf***er?!”

Batman Cosplayer: *in a raspy tone* “I am vengeance. I am the night. I am… Batman.”

(The two other customers began to yell, but quickly shut up when all the cosplayers got up and surrounded them, showing that most of them were clearly larger. The mall security arrested the bad customers, and the cosplayers left after apologizing for the trouble. However, it was not before we snapped a picture with them. Now, we frequently joke about that time when Batman, Pikachu, and Master Chief saved the restaurant!)

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