An unusual February 14

    

     When we say "February 14" many things come to our minds: love, our partner, dinners, chocolates, flowers, among other ridiculous things. I won't lie to you, I did not have a partner to spend this Valentine's Day, but however I lived one day at least ... unusual. If you want to know what I mean, keep reading.  

     One month ago, my best friend; @froilanbigott, came with a proposal for me: Go to another city to leave flowers to his father-in-law's grave on February 14 (the day of his death) Why? His girlfriend is now living in another country and would not be able to leave flowers for herself. It should be noted that I accepted without hesitation. 

     The plan was simple, buy the flowers and go in a taxi to the other city and from there, walk to the graveyard; easy and simple. But we forgot a key factor: We live in Venezuela, here NOTHING comes out as you plan.

   Time passed, a week before we seemed to not have enough money, but between one thing and another, we got it. The big day dawned, early in the morning we woke up, each one in our respective houses, @froilanbigott came to mine and after a couple cups of coffee we started our journey on February 14 in the morning, ready to spend it in a graveyard. 

     We went to the market to buy the flowers and take the taxi that would take us to our destination. We went to the florist, we chose the flowers and we prepared to pay (100 thousand BsF.) But something happened; @froilanbigott took out his card, the manager looked at him and said " El Banco de Venezuela is not working," I'm sorry "we looked at our bewildered faces, we could not spend the cash because with him we would pay for the trips. We went to other Florist and they told us the same thing ... At this point in the story, I want to make my words resonate:

 ... We live in Venezuela, here NOTHING comes out as you plan. 

    In our search for flowers, we decided to go to the other city without buying them, we thought we could buy them there without any problem. So we did, we took the taxi and set out for unknown lands.  

    We arrived at the Plaza Bolivar, we got off and immediately our mind was filled with confusion; We did not know where to buy the flowers, where the graveyard  was or how to move around the city. But neither short or lazy, we started walking as if we were born in that city, but only with one difference: We did not know where we were going. 

    After a little time thinking, we remembered that we had a friend in the city, which would guide us. We quickly called her, I took the phone and from my mouth began to go out at a great speed so many questions as my mind could formulate, she notoriously native of that site, responded quickly. She gave us all the indications we needed, I just forgot one detail; My memory is fatal. Almost arriving at the florist of which she spoke to me, I forgot the last part of the indications, I even started to confuse street names, but between things and others we managed to get there.

  Once at the florist's shop, the manager repeated the same words that had caused us so much discomfort: 

The Banco de Venezuela is not working, I'm sorry.  

     She complemented that phrase by saying: It's at the national level. There we realized that we did not have money to buy the flowers and our mission was in danger of failing. We called my friend again and in view of our situation, she decided to go to the rescue. Fortunately for us, she knew the owner of this florist shop, which allowed us to acquire the flowers through a bank transfer (made by her). Once with the flowers in hand, she noticed our sweat and tiredness, and decided to take us to her house, (she lived across the street) give us some water and let us sit a few minutes. After some time, some words came out of her that was like listening to the singing of an angel: I will take you to the graveyard; although those words took a sour taste when she later said: But you will have to come back for yourself. Said and done. 

   We had the flowers, we had arrived at the graveyard, we thought that everything was fine, but I return and I repeat.

... We live in Venezuela, here NOTHING comes out as you plan.

    Another problem arose, we did not know where the man was buried and his grave had no name (the responsible for doing it did it wrong and the family decided to discard it). We had vague explanations, but obviously in a large graveyard, vague explanations did not help much. Time passed and passed, we had more than an hour looking for the grave and now the fatigue invaded our bodies and we were late and decided to make a decision. With the vague explanations that we had, we decided to follow our instincts and choose (a little at random) the grave in which we would leave the flowers. We left them in one which fulfilled the characteristics. 

     The mission was complete, now we had to return to our city, we had to walk ALL the way back to the Plaza Bolivar and take another taxi, but we were happy, it was worth it ...  

     Once at my house, @froilanbigott sends a picture of the flowers to his girlfriend, when she responds he breaks into a loud laugh, he sees me and says: That tomb was not. After hearing that, I accompany him in his laughter, marking the end of a rare, but great anecdote. 

NOTE: The laughter was something like "laugh to not cry" nothing was in a tone of mockery or disrespect