mishaps in Barcelona

this is how i ended up in a spanish hospital a couple of weeks ago.
I was in Barcelona. I went to a club with a friend I met in Tokyo, the music was good (minimalist German Techno, apparently). I had just come from the beach, and was wearing flip flops.
the club was packed, everyone was smiling. I had a drink and a dance. I fell asleep somewhere for a bit. danced again. then wandered back to the dance floor and around the club a bit. by this time (about 4am, i think) the floor was thick with broken glass, i was trying to pick my way through it and up the stairs when i felt a sharp pain in my foot, and looked down to see it bleeding everywhere. someone came over and asked if I was ok, i think i must have looked a bit forlorn and just said 'no'. so he carried me down the stairs, blood dripping everywhere and took me to the entrance of the club. then some english girl came over and helped stop the bleeding. I was very convinced i should get my foor hgher than my heart and was trying to stick it up in the air. then i started to feel really giddy and puked everywhere. it was so very pretty. everyone was really calm and lovely about it. somebody made me a tourniquet out of the strap from my bag. and we tried to call my friend (pretty hopeless mission considering we were in a club). suddenly they were announcing that they had called me an ambulance. through the haze i remember thinking this was really unnecessary, but the whole thing seemed to be out of my hands. a kind girl in a headscarf took over from the other people, someone bought over a huge wad of cotton wool. my friend arrived. and then the ambulance did. i was very embarrassed that they'd called the ambulance, thinking the foot was really not serious. thought they would just patch it up in the ambulance. they did but then the ambulance started moving.so that's how i ended up in hospital racing around in a wheel chair (pretty good fun, actually). they tutted about me going to the discoteque in flipflops. put iodine on the cut. gave me a tetanus shot. my friend wheeled me down the corridors and we walked out of the hospital. the sun was rising and the sea was sparkling.
the next day I had to get my flight to Sardinia. I was on the metro on my way to the airport with all my bags gazing vacantly around me (still a bit weak from the lack of sleep and loss of blood) when I happened to look down at my bag. a hand was creeping into it, the way the hand moved was like an animal. it was a strange, fluid motion and made me feel sick. i couldn't speak. i slammed my hand down on my bag and looked up at the woman the hand belonged to. she looked away and withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened. I didn't know what to say. I don't speak Spanish, and I'd have hated to yell in English. I didn't think it would do any good, anyway. but there was an intense moment where we made eye contact, and she must have seen my shock and whatever it was.
I only had two euros anyway, so it wasn't exactly a very profitable enterprise for her.
I felt really unsettled after that, I'm not sure why considering that nothing was taken.
Other than the mishaps, I loved Barcelona. It was really good to catch up with my fellow higashi-funabashi inmates again. The city is really cool, I loved all the Gaudi stuff. I want to go back at some point, perhaps for more than 4 days, next time.
Also loved that the beer is really cheap and it's warm at night and all that...
Clearly I had some really insightful observations. My other one was that Spanish people seem to look cool in most clothes, even ones that would make English people look sort of dated.
OK, I just re-read that. Clearly it's time I wrote my own travel book. Hello Lonely Planet, you better watch out.
Seriously, LP should sort it out. They're such a great idea in theory, but in practice they're always a bit shoddy.
and that's all I have to say about that.