A Spanish Adventure
I traveled to Madrid and, seeing no soap in the bathroom of the hotel, I called down to the front desk to request some sopa. They sent up a bowl of chicken broth.
At that point, I was ready to hang myself. I called downstairs again and asked them to send up some ropa. They sent up a pair of pants and a shirt.
I decided I’d just eat some butter and that would do the job. After all, in Spain the butter is meant to kill ya.
Contributed by Cynthia Mac Gregor, P. O. T. Y.