So I’ve been feeling guilty that I haven’t posted anything for a while which posed a dilemma for me because I also don’t have time/ las ganas to write stuff right now. Well, a little while ago this really demanding girl told me she wasn’t going to let me sublease here room when I get back to merica if I don’t tell her a story. Finding myself on the cusp of homelessness (and we all know that that’s an impossibility for me because of my mild-manneredness and fragility), I realized there was nothing to be done except acquiesce. So I told her this story of a thing that happened to me a month or two ago(?) Here, I’m doing that cliché thing with the birds and the stones and reappropriatin that shit. Hope you enjoy.
Also, TYPO/GRAMMO, I’m sure.
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The Story Of Something That Happened To Me But I Can’t Put It In The Title Because Then It Would Lose SUSPENSE
Once upon a time it was a normal Tuesday or Wednesday night in Buenos Aires when all of a sudden I realize of course that means we have to go to a bar because in that Golden Age of my study abroad experience I had like zero homework ever. So we gather a mass of americans1 and plan to go to this cool Irish pub my friend had heard about called CHECKERS. I got there early because that's what cool people do but then realized the bar was extremely dark, as if it were saying WE'RE CLOSED COME BACK ANOTHER NIGHT [hint: this MIGHT BE 4SHADOWING]. I totes thought it was closed and was about to leave but didn't wanna be the dumb guy that didn't even try to open the door so I did it and the door opened. I immediately felt like my friend told me the address wrong because the bar was almost completely empty except for some older people that were way out-dressing me. The older maybe-in-an-irish-mob-looking bartender comes over and asks me what I like and I say I'm waiting for my friends but I guess I could order a beer so he says they have Quilmes (Argentina's always-cheap, "national" beer), Corona, and Heineken. I thought it was kind of weird that it was an Irish pub and they didn't have Guinness or something but I ask how much a Quilmes was and he said like 40 pesos or something which is more than double what it normally is so I tell him I am going to wait for mis amigos to show up and then we'll order.
I'm sitting around waiting, and when one of the chicas I'm meeting shows up, I tell her I'm not ordering anything because I'm sure we'll go somewhere else because the prices are crazy. As we wait for others, I let my eyes wander around the bar and slowly start to notice that all the older people seemed to be women that were by themselves. I thought to myself this must be like a bar where people come and try to meet dates or something. Then I realize that they are all wearing outfits that are black and fairly revealing, which is basically what all women wear here, so you know, whatever. Then I realize one of them is sitting at the bar, staring at me. This didn't seem incredibly weird because well, who wouldn’t wanna look at me? Then I realize like all of the women are staring intently at me, which still didn’t really bother me because, well, see above.
Then I add up some facts like dark bar + empty bar + "what do you like?" + lack of obvious beers + expensive beers + all older women in black ‘“clothes”’ staring at me and I realize that this equation equaled holy shit i'm definitely in a prostitute bar and they totes think I wanna pay them to do sex things to me.
So me and my friend rapidly and as inconspicuously as possible get up and move slowly towards the door BUT NOT FAST ENOUGH because one of the i'm-definitely-sure-at-this-point prostitutes comes between the door and us and tells us we don't want to leave. I'm pretty sure it was the nervous jumble of probably-not-even-spanish that came out of my mouth that convinced her that yes, i did want to go because i was a little boy, not a man looking to do sex things with her and besides she was totes barking up the wrong tree if you know what i mean.
So then we left through the door behind her. Then we tried to convince our bro that just walked up to go in and ordering a drink BECAUSE THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN FUNNY RITE? But he wouldn’t do it because, well why was everyone else standing outside? So instead we found an actually cool bar whose bartender was the nicest fucking guy and also looked exactly like the guy from Titus Andronicus. THE END.
1 Oh well.
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