I have pink eye. I also insuluted an Argentinian as I was making my way out of Hiro last night. It all started at a backyard Bastille Day celebration downtown. Too many trendies and stuck-ups but the beaujoulais was fruity and nice.
Standing around with Dave and Uncle Ron, we were trying to figure out whether or not one of the partygoers was really a man.
Colette: Well her shape is box-y.
Dave: Yeah I totally saw an adam’s apple…
Colette: Yeah, makes you wanna just go over there and you know… (I make the gesture of grabbing balls)
We laugh then she comes around to talk to a man and younger man that were standing near us.
Uncle Ron: You still think…
Dave: oh yeah (as he takes a sip of beaujoulais- I know I am spelling it wrong)
Colette: Well, its all about following your intuition
She Male: What? What about intuition? What are you talking about?
We are stunned. Our balls shrivel up as hers puff out in defense. Shit! So we cover our asses. “Just talking about life” Uncle Ron says. “Yeah, its important to never doubt your first instinct.” I say as Dave sips his beaujoulais.
She keeps talking…about what she does… possibly buying a co-op in Chinatown… “oh, this is my husband and stepson” she points. Dave, Uncle Ron and I were standing next to them the whole time. Of course!
She was forgiving enough to give us the skinny on the next event which turned out to be a mob scene. More trendies and more stuck-ups mixed in with ghetto fabs. We quickly left.
Then we got escorted through a back entrance into Hiro. Its not that cool how it happened. Really. But one must fake it just a little.
So onto the final destination, Hiro!
Its 11:30pm, I am exhausted and itchy eyed, looking for the exit door. I see a trendy…
Colette: is this the exit to go out?
Trendy: Oh, to the coatroom?
Colette: No, I have to get out of here.
Trendy: Oh, you have to go that way…
I detected an accent. Possibly French- at least he had the look of bourgeois scrufness like a French guy anyway. I endeavored to find out. After all, part of my job is to learn how to connect with people so I decided to befriend him.
Colette: What’s your name?
He tells me.
Colette: Parlez Francais?
He tells me that he Argentinian
Colette: Oh, wow. So are there like phrases in Argentina? Like how in Costa Rica they say Pura Vida… (am I drunk? dear reader, I don’t know)
He laughs. So I keep going.
Colette: Yeah, like Eva Peron or “the disappeared”… Do you know anyone that disappeared?
I laughed. He is horrified because its like asking a stranger “your mother was crushed by a fire truck in 9/11, right?” or “yeah, did your grandmother scream as she was being burned alive in the ovens at Bergen Belsen?” and “did you know anyone that hid out in Hotel Rwanda? ha ha ha”
Trendy: Um, well yes I knew people that disappeared but that is not a phrase…
Colette: Oh ok. Well, good night.
Trendy: good night.
He was polite and I was a dick with saggy balls dissing transsexuals in front of their families and making fun of social atrocities.
I had a fun night though.