The morning after our Madrid debut, we are on our merry way to La Coruña. We eventually arrive at the Street of Glass, which looks like it’s been plopped down at random in the middle of nowhere–on one side of the street are a long block of interconnected restaurants, and on the other a series of interconnected nightclubs. It is not impossible that I am making all of this up, because I can find next to no indication online of this place, which is only fitting because my recollection of the evening, twenty-five years ago today, is that there was no evidence whatsoever that we would be performing. But I’ve got a setlist that says we did, opening with “The Evil That Men Do–Craig’s Version,” perhaps because it made sense to start with an instrumental, if I’m remembering correctly that the mixing desk was behind the p.a., and closing with “Bermuda,” no doubt in tribute to the triangle we wondered if we’d stumbled into. It took hours for our Spanish tour manager, Javier, to get paid, and we didn’t get to a bed until somewhere in the vicinity of 6 a.m., with a wakeup call for the next day’s show in mere hours away.