It’s 5:33 in the morning and my entire body is itching. Has it been a good night? I think so, let’s recap (just killed a mosquito, boludo….).
I was planning on attending the archery bar last night but accidentally let my nap turn into a full eleven hours of sleep. As a result, when Alexa asked me if I was interested in going out tonight, my answer was a definite yes. We didn’t have any sort of a plan so we wandered to El Club de la Milenesa, our favorite restaurant, and had dinner and some impossibly strong mojitos. We sat outside, which was nice since the weather has been gorgeous, but outdoor dining in the city is totally different from the type I know at home. It’s still calm, even though you sit on the street, and it’s still peaceful, just a very different view. Anyways, after that we went to the local American pregame spot, Magdalena’s in Palermo Soho. We have a friend there who we thought was the owner, who just happens to be so cute, but sadly he wasn’t working last night. However, we met this other bartender, Sara, from Vancouver. After a couple rounds of happy hour drinks at the bar, she asked us about our plans for the evening. When I told her we were headed to Asia de Cuba on the water in Puerto Madero (recommended by my guide), she kind of made a face and told us it was full of guys from Miami who think they’re hot shit (I mostly imagine guidos in white suits and sunglasses). Instead she recommended Terraza del Este, which I had been referred to before. She said her friend was a club promoter there and could probably get us on the guest list. So now I’m thinking, why the fuck not? It gets even better. This guy comes to pick us up, drives us there (its like 80 pesos in a cab) and not only gets us in free, but gives us drink tickets and free VIP wristbands. A man after my own heart..
Regardless, all was going well but one of our friends and the club promoter, um, clashed, per say. Basically shit hit the fan, and they both ended up insulted and it was just very bad. I won’t get into details, as quite honestly I didn’t see much of it.
So, back to me. This place was probably one of the coolest clubs I’ve ever been to, the only thing I could relate it to would be POUND but that place is a shit show (a giant building of bars, techno, and bright lights). There were probably seven different rooms, each playing different songs and styles of music, most with bars in them. The VIP section was right in the middle of it all, but to be honest I wanted to see the whole club, not just the elite, and be in the middle of all the action (dancing and what not). So Alexa and I are walking around, getting groped, blah, blah, and all of a sudden we’re outside looking at lit up palm trees and some body of water that was probably a river but I’d like to think it was an ocean. We were loving life, dancing by ourselves and looking like big sloots. Gotta do what you do best, right?
Usually when you walk through a club, guys do the usual “que linda” and “hermosa” yada-yada. Last night the number of people who tried to grab my hand to dance was probably around fifteen, and I think I had full on conversations with about five more other guys. You might be thinking I’m sounding a little arrogant, but of course these guys were the usual kind I attract: old, balding, creepy… nothing to be proud of. Also I felt foul about some of them refusing to understand my spanish… I mean, come on. This frustrated me enough that I pulled out the European Citizenship lie and told everyone I was from France. I know it doesn’t make sense okay?! Just go with it.
As the night progressed, Alexa and I found ourselves sitting on the ledge of a garden looking out at the dark space where the water supposedly was. It was pretty to see the stars for a change, because you usually can’t with the pollution in the city. That got me all nostalgic, but not enough to get sad. 🙂 After some time, we decided to head out, which took probably another hour. We ran into some guy Alexa loves from school but he was trashed and pretended he wasn’t sure where he knew us from… like, oh yea, okay buddy. I definitely think he’s so much cooler because he couldn’t give a shit about who we were. Kill me, boys are idiots.
Walking out of the palace called a club, on the stone path, through beautiful grasses, we found ourselves remarking how much fun we had, and wondering why both of us were still walking. Usually “fun” corresponds with one taking care of the other, but hey, if everyone wants to be conscious, than by all means, more power to ya.
I’m not taking my wristband off. It makes me feel cool. Like a battle scar but way more college-girl polished. As if you didn’t already know.