If {impasse} Then Push{ingles} Capiche?

Last night at around 1130 pm I rolled into Madrid after a long sleepless trainride. Snoring assholes have been the bain of my exsistance for the past few weeks and this train, while mostly empty, contained just enough of these to make them unavoidable, even upon switiching coches.
Well known to and reccommended by most any and all travelers in Spain in Cat´s Hostel in Madrid. So, a short hike from the Atocha train station brought me there. (I say I´m backpacking Europe, though I´ve had to make special effort to actually walk long distances with the thing on my back. At first I was taking cabs do to my unfamliarity with the areas. Now I just take off walking towards the lights and honking cars.) The place is great, more like a night club or bar with beds upstairs. Tons of Americans sure, but also everyone else. After checking in and throwing my stuf in my dorm I made my way down to the bar which was dark, crowded, and serving up liter cups of beer for 2 euros 50. Kids everywhere, spilling out into the street, a regular Spanish Wednesday night. I made friends with a group: a student from Chile studying economics and two German solo travellers. After typical conversation....the weakness of the dollar versus the fate of the Euro, German philosophy and its creation of an enlightened if unhappy people and so forth....we made our was down to the basement -the internet room slash nightclub looking area. as we four gentlement tired of each other slightly, and one of the german´s libido kicked up, he crossed the room and asked two birds in the corner to join us. Now these guys are all students here, only one speaking Spanish fluently, the others a sort of slow textbook castillano that I can actually understand. So as the girls walked over we all looked at each other and took a quick worried survey of the linguistic abilities between us, figuring them to be native spanish speakers. Nay, .....Italian birds. Born and raised in Florence. I couldn´t get over their nationality much the same as they couldnt get over mine, though my fascination was returned with disdain. I´m used to this by now. The Chilean bloke struck up a conversation with one of the birds though she spoke less Spanish than Italian or even English. He´s a smart dude, so that helped, but what´s more is how similar Italian and Spanish are. He would speak his native tounge and she hers and they rolled through what was to me a Romantic Recitative from an abscure Florentein opera, to them...small talk. But the really interesting point, the thing which my German national, English conversing comrade of the evening told me to expect, the entire reason for this story, is that when the two Romance speakers arrive at an impasse -the ommission or addition of a terminal vowell usually- it was always quickly, mechanically resolved with -you guessed it- English. The language of finance, engineering, and computer programming......"alright...what´s the noun....whats the verb....ok got it".....but not a language of love. English has great use all over the world for this purpose, which is kindof cool, but its sort of like using sissors to complete a puzzle instead of sense, trial, and corrected error. So guys...the odds are stacked quite against you with European broads. Sorry.