Boliche the Second

I have to preface that this little (long) story will contain some immature adult language and foul words. It was my in my best intentions that I would abandon my sailor mouth and gutter mind while writing these fascinating little updates, however, after last night, this story would be incomplete without them.

I attended my second Boliche. Please reference other my story, Boliche Faced, if you are unclear of the meaning.

I was excited to go because I could finally wear the ridiculous dress I purchased from Loli in NYC. That woman convinced me this was a versatile purchase, and in retrospect, it´s an awesome dress, but making it into a shirt was not happening. Being disappointed, I settled for a FUGLY white top which I borrowed, highlighting my tacky white bra. If I ran into any Fashion Police, arrested, booked, sodomized, and death row is where I would have landed....oh well, oddly enough, I fit in.

This time, we ventured out of Villa Allende and into the City of Cordoba. The Small group of 3, Andreita, Tatiana, and myself started at a bar. I should say that I was really excited. I haven't had a cocktail in over a month and I could actually hear the gin whispering sweet nothings into my ear. After we got there, this bar was not going to sell me gin for a reasonable price. Instead, I settled on a vicious cocktail containing vodka and lime...simple. I was thinking about ordering number 2, when it came to y attention that Tati had not made a dent her Cotton Candy tasting mojito. OHHHH, so I´m hanging out with this crowd... No problem, I will play this game sober, again. I´m positive that I sighed outloud and physically had to lift my drooping head.

We arrive at the Boliche, named Peñon de Aguilr...which is similar in English to the name Bird Mountain- whatever. It is an Irish themed club, if you can imagine that. All the signs were in English, and said stuff like ¨Irish I were Drunk¨ and ¨Bless the Irish.¨ There was also a massive sign labeled ¨Irish Music¨ ...and there were no songs on it- i Thought that was pretty amusing. It is my personal opinion that this Boliche should abandon the Irish theme, and follow through with its true feeling, the RAPE theme. This will become evident shortly.

As soon as we arrive, it is clear to me that Argentina is unfamiliar with the Maximum Capacity law. This provides for not only uncomfortably crowded or even claustrophobic, but the If-I-Wern´t-Wearing-Clothes-I´d-Be-Pregnant close. Never have I been that close to so many people...and I did eat onions for dinner. Excellent. The 3 ladies try and make our way to the bathroom, and fall into the Vultures Nest, IE hungry drunk guys. NO biggie, we smile and dance a bit, and before I know it, I´ve got some fuzzy haired kid wrapped around me. Oh no son. I start to leave, and he point blank asks me if i´m drunk. I reply no, and I see it coming. I see it like you can see a tornado coming. He plunges for a full on kiss. And inches from my face, I shoot up my and, all 5 fingers, and kinds hold his face for a minute. Excuse the fuck out of me, this is not okay. We leave only to run directly into the Great Wall of China- of people. There is no choice, we have to back track through the mess I have just created by denying Peter Griffin. We try and sneak past, and Señor kissy pants immediately latches to me I keep walking, and he tries kissing my neck. WTF, this ain´t no raunchy beach read, kid. And I realized, he had quite the tight grip, on my waist. Holy smokes, I´m going to be devoured right here, i think and immediately ram my head into his face. Please imagine a sideways head-butt! He drops his grip, and I walk away, but not before I feel that he has drooled on my shoulder. Gross, he´s dumb AND sloppy. Bad combo. When I go to wipe off his saliva, i realize it´s blood. Great, someone get this guy a tampon. I look back and see that I have seriously busted his lip. I mangled him. His friends are laughing hysterically. Awesome way start to this dance fest.

(I´m happy i decided against wearing my classy shirt dress, I don´t think blood washes out of silk easily).

We reach the horror of which is the bathroom and am not shocked when I find absolutely no toilet paper, or the fact that the one toilet doesn´t flush. I contemplated peeing on the floor to show Argentina and this Boliche my gratitude and Appreciation. While waiting for the other ladies, I found my new favorite sport. Watch drunk girls apply black eye liner. Naturally, these ladies resembling raccoons are sharing the same eye liner. Clearly sanitary. This was amazing. Pink eye anyone? Would you also like to use my already waxy Q-Tip too?

Getting back to the dance floor, a few noteworthy events happened. First, since I am cautious Courtney, I tried identifying my nearest exit in case of an emergency. Along with the Max Capacity deal, there are no clearly illuminated exits. Fuck. I´ll just jump up with the DJ and use the fire extingusher if anything happens. Also, since this is a classy joint, they don't use plastic cups- just glass, and glass pitchers. (I´m hoping this is the type of pitcher to serve beer and not balls). Well some other girls we met up with had one and decided to share. I already knew how this was going to turn out. Too many people jumping up and down dancing and a big heavy glass near my renovated and expensive teeth. No. And then it happened, a girl got RAMMED and chipped a tooth. Sucka, get a straw...like I did. And thus I drank beer from a glass pitcher in the middle of a dance floor. It was around this point that poor Andreita got burned in the ear with a cigarette. I now see the purpose for banning smokes in clubs...It´s pretty dangerous.

Right about this time is when the second attempted rape occurred. There I was hanging out dancing like a fool, not understanding any songs, when I get a familiar sensation on my waist. It seems the guy behind me in red has confused my waist for his. I try and help him by removing his hand. This way he´ll get the hint and we can bypass the embarrassing rejection scene I perfected earlier on. But with no surprise, he truly believes that his hands belong on my waist. I turn around and stare at him, with a rather puzzled look. That´s all. No dancing, no smiling, nothing. Standing 100% without movement, staring at this fellow. I know this is awkward, and he feels it to and stops. I turn back around and continue my Cindy Lauper/Steven Taylor dance imitation when I get someone´s hands on my my neck and head. What? Who? Aw, yes, the gentleman in red...again. Here I though he left. He was less threatening than my former gentleman almost lover, so rather than gearing up for my second WWF move of the night, I just put both of my hands on top of his head and messed his hear up badly. He didn´t like this one bit, and the last I saw, he was heading towards the baños. My friends are now doubled over laughing at me and my antics. Silly American.

We make our way over to the bar, because I decide for everyone it is Shot time, and we NEED tequila. It went down smooth, and I was getting ready to order another round. (You can see where this night WOULD have gone if it were not for the following events). I looked for the Bartenders, and saw all of them, in the middle of the bar. One with a whistle blaring at every beat to the song. The others actually playing the drain covers and other metal appliances as instruments. Shit no. I will not tip people making ruckus like this. Instead, I drank more beer and that was that. The only song that I knew all evening was Santeria by Sublime. I was the hit when I sang all the words. One guy even shouted Viva Estados Unidos. I love him. I was also worried he was going to get the shit kicked out of him, so I chose not visit with him.

The last man of the evening approached me like he was the guy I had been searching all of my young life. He gave me the, ¨Hey, it´s okay, I´m here¨ look. HE also proceeded and didn´t ask me to dance, but actually said, ¨we dance!¨ I replied ¨we don´t.¨ I´m sorry, but this out of place troll had to be in his 50s and actually was beaten with an ugly stick. Hey, I maybe be foreign, but I´m not stupid Gandolf!

I ended the evening with a bang when I shoved a fat girl on the bus back to Villa Allende because her drunk ass decided to sit on me. Normally, I´m okay with lap sitting, but it was 7 am, and I was worried that I may suffocate. When she yelled at me, I looked at her, straight faced, and said (In Spanish) ¨No hablo español.¨ She apologized, surprisingly, and wobbled to the back of the bus.


I made a divine face plant into my pillow at 7:32 and actually saw the sun peaking through the curtains. What a marvelous evening.