Lights out

Our day began at 3:45am--perhaps early enough to say that our previous night had never really ended. Bleary-eyed and still exhausted from our arduous trek back from the city (via BUS again--damn Sunday-night train schedules), SilentR and I dragged ourselves to the front desk to be picked up by the airport shuttle.

Needless to say, we arrived in Barcelona (much) later that day, still exhausted, but we wasted no time before beginning to tour the city. By the time dinner rolled around, we threw in the towel. Without the energy for even just eating that last meal, Silent took a shower and rolled into bed and I followed suit right after. Some BBC got my eyes tired, and so it was time to turn out the lights, so I did.

And something exploded.

Frozen, with my hand still on the light switch, I assessed the situation, overall hoping that I at least hadn't woken Silent, who'd been having trouble getting any good sleep.

    "Uh, mel?"

Dammit.

What seemed to have happened was that my turning off the light had somehow short-circuited the breaker and blew out the desk light bulb across the room (which had been off all night anyway). While the experience had been startling enough for me, Silent had woken up convinced she was done for.

    "I'd been having a dream that I was being chased. And then when I heard the bang and the breaking glass, I thought someone was shooting at us through the window!"

I felt so bad, even though I technically hadn't done anything (except turn out the lights). Her heart rate did not slow until well after we'd made our way down to the front desk and returned with reinforcements to at least clear out the glass.

The rest of the night passed without any other incident (and Silent was so exhausted she fell right back to sleep, thankfully), but I guess the whole thing hadn't helped that, again, after booking our hotel, we found a review of our area of town, telling us it wasn't exactly the best. But hey, it wasn't an Omonia by any stretch.