Dress Archie Survives Riot

Now on the third day of our trip, we have already seen a shit load of shit and done even more. Our first day in London was kind of shitty, given we had been up all night on the plane and the Pound was kicking our fucking asses ($5 pickles??? fuck that). Our second night was sweet, given our blogs namesakes brother is a complete boss. Not only did he take us innocent American tourists to a snooker hall (seedy), Lebanese food (where we had the $5 pickles), and a casino (I made some, so did Harrison, but hungryfortacos and the others...eh), but he got us in to what seemed like a super-exclusive club for fucking FREE. We don´t actually know how exclusive it was, but there were hella many fine-thouroughbred-dime-pieces who were all way out of our league. Except the one American beez (aZn) who was there, who I assume only started dancing with me because I was speaking English.
So that was cool and all, especially when we were woken up by Archibald at 1:30 the next afternoon. We were supposed to meet him at the "Chewb" station at 1:15.

Then we got to Madrid, where we were greeted with some sketchy motherfuckers trying to pickpocket Hungryfortacos. Luckily our namesake saw the bitches and they dropped it and ran off the train.
Once we got in to our hostel, we booked it back out in to the city to watch the second half of the Madrid vs. Mallorca game, A.K.A if "Madrid Wins, Big Fucking Party Because They Win Their League". They were losing 1-0 for a long time, and finally pulled it out with 3 goals in a matter of minutes towards the end. The fans flooded off to a nearby square, and by the time the players bus arrived, we assumed there were approximately 500,000-1,000,000 people in the plaza and nearby streets. Holy fuck. We learned some sweet cheers and got some sweet bandanas, and all of a sudden the entire crowd started to move like a damn stampede. We almost died. Once we got out of the mob, Hungryfortacos tried taking a picture of a cop and almost got his camera taken away (which would have been really bad because he already lost his poor phone somewhere in the madness). Then the riot police started shooting rubber fucking bullets, and people started running everywhere. So we almost died, again.
So in conclusion, Madrid is right now, the city of the trip. Meaning we are officially off London´s hype, and riding Madrid´s futbol-crazed jock.
Adios.