Late one night my boyfriend and I stopped at a bar near a river on our way home from the northern coast of Spain. My boyfriend ordered two small glasses of beer. The bartender started talking about some tapas then he said he had some eels, fresh eels, did we want some?
I said, “No thank you” graciously while doing an inner cringe. My boyfriend, however, was interested and he started asking all sorts of questions.
I drifted to the windows and looked out into the dark night, squinted my eyes out toward the rough flowing river. I was tired and there was still at least an hour until we got to his parents’ country house. I sighed and walked back to the bar just as a plastic shopping bag was being placed on the counter.
My boyfriend had his wallet out and was paying, so we must be leaving soon.
“Maybe you should double-bag them.” My boyfriend said.
I thought that was odd until I noticed that the bag was moving. To be more accurate, there were moving beings inside the bag.
“Eels,” my boyfriend explained, “Just caught! My aunt will be thrilled!”
The bartender double bagged the eels, he could have put them in twelve bags and I wouldn’t have felt better.
“How are we going to get them home?” I worried.
“Oh, we’ll just put the bag at your feet.”
“How about the trunk? They’ll be more comfortable in the trunk – it’s much cooler.”
The eels rode home in the trunk and I rode home with my feet crossed on the seat – just in case the double bag broke.