I don't know, it's just how he goes from feeling all sorry for himself while checking into 5 star hotels to scoping out American looking girls and drinking mojitos. The writing style is starting to grate as well.
Maybe I'm being unreasonable.
Well that's what happened, yeah? I wasn't feeling sorry for myself. I kept having anxiety attacks on the train from Granada to Madrid while I tried to watch some Breaking Bad, like I mentioned. Had to keep pausing it to do breathing exercises. Can't control that, just a result of being isolated and sick for several days and not really having any human contact. I have clinical depression and anxiety, and I'm providing an honest account of the events, so that's why I mention it. It provided for an interesting contrast between the first half of the day and the second half, though, after I forced myself through it and went out and made things happen.
Staying in a nice hotel doesn't make you immune to negativity or immune to life. I only mention that it's a five star because I ended up taking a girl back to my hotel, and I had a different end point of the story in a previous revision but I felt like ending it at the cab. Bringing her back to my swank hotel sort of completed the night, confirmed all the things I had said about myself, and made her think I was James Bond or something ;b. I don't really give a fuck either way where I stay, as you'll notice since I've stayed in a bunch of hostels. Nice hotels are for your woman, not for you. I just so happened to stay at a nice hotel and have a woman that day, a pleasant coincidence.