I
spent a year living in Buenos Aires and used to go to a British / Irish style pub called Bullers in Recoleta. Fairly nice place during the day, with some proper beer rather than the utterly foul yet ubiqitous Quilmes lager that most bars in Argentina serve.

At night though, the place changed.

I went there one night with two Argentine girls, three Americans, and another Britisher. When we got there and started on our drinks, one of the Argentine girls reveled she was pregnant.

At the time she was drinking a triple rum and coke and had just stubbed her fifth Gaulois out and was sparking up a sixth.

"But Ana Maria*," said one of the Americans, "surely you shouldn't be drinking or smoking if you're pregnant"
"Nah," said Ana Maria, "I've got the abortion booked for next week so it doesn't matter."

Well, after that things seemed to go downhill. A group of Mexicans came in to watch their local team versus Velez Sarsfield (I think it was the Pumas). Somehow I ended up smoking cigars with them, getting more and more drunk on Beer and Tequila. I believe that I also was wearing a large sombrero at one point. Anyhoo, Cecilia* (the other Argentine girl) drags me away and tells me to drink this 'special' drink.

Cecilia* was, it has to be said, stunning. Especially in the very figure hugging top she was wearing that night. I had had something of a crush on her for some time and the desire to bump uglies with her overcame my natural paranoia and I downed the drink.

Why should I have been paranoid? Cecilia* was a great fan of some backstreet Argentine made version of Ketamine... illegally made horse tranquiliser more or less. She'd been trying to get me to do it for ages and so far I'd resisted. She had 'impishly' dosed the drink she gave me with a fair amount of the stuff and then oozed over, all pouting lips and heaving chest and appealed to my sex drive to drink it.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. I remember trying to stop the world spinning by lying under a table holding on to the legs, whilst Ana Maria* dropped Gaulois ash all over me and knocked back vodka. Spattered snapshots of the night appear, such as bursting into the toilet and discovering one of the Mexican men, dressed in a business suit and a 'comedy' sombrero, getting a blowjob off one of the Americans; attempting to chat up an Italian lady at the bar and slurring and dribbling so badly that she thought I was having a stroke; being helped outside by Cecilia* and one of the Americans, where they, for some unknown reason, put me astride a large plastic bull that stood outside the steak restaurant next door, and then had to spend half an hour arguing with the shotgun toting policeman who wanted to arrest me. At this point I was sat on the ground, head in hands, trying not to vomit. I don't remember much after that, other than Cecilia* taking me back to her apartment as I was incapable of going further and putting me to sleep on the kitchen floor.

I miss Argentina.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Sat 7 Feb 2009, 18:41, 6 replies)

You win!
*clicks*
( girlinthehole, Sat 7 Feb 2009, 19:58, closed)

what's with all the asterisks?

(idle insomniac enjoys listening to Sigur Rós at stupid hours, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 4:35, closed)

For
some reason, possibly because I was a little drunk when I wrote this, to show that its not their real names.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Mon 9 Feb 2009, 1:15, closed)

Oh my god...
It's full of stars!
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 14:41, closed)

Ah yes
I loved Bullers
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 19:15, closed)

Yep
me too. Many happy nights there... and at another bar nearby (the name escapes me) where I relocated three bottles of red wine to the toilet through my mouth. Got dumped for a week by the girl I was dating for that one.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Mon 9 Feb 2009, 1:14, closed)