I'm afraid of Americans

After Tossa last night we were tired, and had to wake up early today, so we stayed low key and ate at a little restaurant right near my apartment. Now remember I live in the Queens of Barcelona: There are warehouses and most of the restaurants have video poker machines. Even my subway line is like one of those weird Brooklyn/Queens lines; it starts in the northeast part of the city, almost goes to the center but then turns and ends up in the southeast corner. Like the J line or something. Anyway, tourists don't come to my neighborhood, and it's not really equipped for them. So we're eating at what has now become my local restaurant, no one else in the place except for the waiter/bartender, when this older American woman bursts in. The waiter/bartender couldn't understand her because she was speaking English; my American friend and I could barely understand her because she was a little incoherent. Apparently she and 10-15 of her friends were trying to go to some other restaurant nearby but it was really crowded, and she wanted to know what they had at this restaurant. Rude in any setting, but made magnitudes worse by the fact that the waiter/bartender clearly didn't speak much English, and she just kept talking more and more loudly in English. We tried to translate for her (she didn't even thank us) but it turned out the restaurant where we were was about to close so she left. We bonded with the waiter/bartender about how obnoxious some tourists can be. She didn't even ask if he spoke English--just barged in and started yelling in English. Damn Americans. A few minutes later two other women who were clearly part of the party of the first one came in. They wanted to know where they could get some pizza and sangria. For fuck's sake, if you're in Spain and you want pizza, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN SPAIN? Through us, the waiter/bartender told them there are lots of places by the beach, about ten minutes away. And they whined "We have to walk ten minutes? We've been walking all day!" They really said that. At this point I was hiding my face and contemplating crawling under the table. What I should have done was tell them there's a Pizza Hut at the beach and a Hard Rock Cafe at Placa Catalunya, but I'm just not quick enough with sarcasm. Maybe I'm being too hard on them. At least they left the US, that's something. But they didn't even say gracias after that whole awful exchange. If you won't even say gracias (how in earth could an American not know that's the Spanish word for thank you?) you shouldn't be allowed into Spain. Punto.