RU:be Gay Night

Coffee at B&B Café today. ¿El desayuno completo tenés? Well then what do you have for breakfast at 1:24 pm? That’s why I’m here. I was out until 5 am and I want breakfast. But if I had wanted eggs I could’ve woken up Voulez Bar and gone to Jenny. Scratch that, reverse it. Willy Wonka style. But it’s freezing (10˚ C) and Voulez Bar smelled bad the last time I ate inside. Things here aren’t always as pretty as they seemed once you see them inside. I’m bummed about this (lack of) promotion. They didn’t advertise hours for it. So what if it’s lunchtime? You still sell it all. Last night was Gay Night: just slap some tostados, mermelada, dulce de leche, two medialunas, a glass of orange juice and some coffee on a plate. Tada! Desayuno completo. Are you really going to make me order it all separately? Fine, I guess I’ll just order half of it for the full price. Café con leche y tostados con dulce for $14, as opposed to the whole shebang for $15. I suppose if the coffee’s decent I can come back at an earlier hour. Starbuck’s is open today, according to Leandro. And he would know; he’s obsessed. (His current Facebook status is: QUIERO MI FRAPU SWEET CARAMEL DE STARBUCKS YAA!!) I would probably trust his insight over the guard I asked yesterday… Went to Sugar with Jenny around 11 pm last night so she could see the place and grab a cheap vodka+Sprite during Happy Hour. Only we use 7-Up and cheap nacional vodka if you don’t specify. Con made me a mojito (Matt doesn’t know how.) It was extra strong. And free. “You can handle it,” he told me. Jamie and her sister Jacqui were there, and also headed to Rumi. But they left at midnight and we didn’t want to get there before 2 am. (Or without Leandro.) Ah, the B&B stands for its cross streets, Bulnes y Beruti. I need to buy groceries after this: wheat bread, yogurts, dulce de leche, fruits and vegetables… My quinoa risotto with Andres was phenomenal. I wish I knew how to make that… But last night was fun. Started off with an ice cream dinner with Jenny, using my 2X1 Il Diverso coupon from the grocery store. She had a chocolate diverso cone (chocolate blended with nuts, white chocolate chunks, and dulce de leche) and I had mint chocolate chip with bitter chocolate. You always get to blend two flavors. The word for cone is cucurucho. Then we walked home, I video chatted with Brinkley and Goodier, got an email from Sherwin the Jamaican saying he was on his way to Taco Tuesday (a little late notice, buddy,) showered, and headed out. Sugar was pretty busy for a Tuesday night. I’m glad Jenny got to see it, although that’s only what it looks like when I get there at 11. British Hostel Guy was there with a guy from Seattle. They commented that I had been talking a lot, didn’t I need to work? I told them it was my night off as I tossed a few popcorn kernels lightly into my mouth. “You know it’s a good bar if the employees come by on their nights off…” They comment that I have a more neutral accent. (Perhaps I hadn’t said “y’all” in a while. Yesterday Andres tried to say “w’all,” as in short for “we all.” I told him it didn’t work like that, but A for effort.) I tell him it’s because I’ve been away from Southerners for too long; and that after working at Sugar for a month I might start talking like those Brits. “Elongate your vowels,” British Hostel Guy doesn’t remember doing impressions of English accents at the bar on Saturday.

A typical weekend night at Bar Sugar Buenos Aires

At 1:30 or so we hear from Leandro to meet up for Rumi. We can either stop by his friend’s house (they’re about to leave,) or meet at the gate. Since we’re in Palermo, I opt for the gate. Some day we’ll have to plan ahead to meet somewhere before. (I tried to invite him for drinks at Sugar, but he was still eating dinner at midnight.) I always meet his friends in loud dance clubs and I can never catch their names. Watching these old ladies leave their tip reminds me of something Con told me last night. “How much did you all make in tips on Saturday?” “$45” “Man, if you all were in The States working on a night like that you would’ve easily come home with $300 dollars in tips.” It’s times like this it’s best not to think of the conversion rate. (Which is now 3.110:1 and dropping.) People here don’t tip much, and it doesn’t make me a more sympathetic tipper really. Perhaps because I don’t have as much disposable income. I suppose I’d come back here for coffee if I were early enough for the promotion. It’s adjacent to the Cinemark, so I wonder if it’s a glorified concessions stand of sorts. I could see a movie today. I’m not down for wandering the streets of San Telmo. It’s too cold. “Ya viene el invierno,” Leandro says as he greets us with cheek-kisses and we check our coats. It is less crowded than last Gay Night I went to, as that was the day before a holiday and no one had work in the morning. But nevertheless, last night there was a crowd of attractive people. “Gente linda,” Leandro called them. I remember last time we went out with Leandro he thought the crowd wasn’t so great. It goes in ebbs and flows I guess.

Leandro, Meg, and flashing green lights for DJ Balca's return

Making a really unattractive face but trying to show off my free glow-in-the-dark bracelets

Last night was gay men; devoted followers of DJ Balca (o el cochino si preferés;) a really cool looking girl in a strappy sequined dress, black tights and Converse All-Stars; and Jenny’s Colombian Polo guy. Her face lit up when she saw him. He was cute, I’ll admit. But his friend was a jerk. Sometimes I think Jenny only likes people who have something to offer her, like money or horses. This guy’s got it. After all, she’s the one who was mad at me for not flirting with Diego more because his family owns a Mexican food restaurant in Cordoba… and she has that whole Martin history. She keeps telling me to date him so he will spend a lot of money on me for my birthday. Hmm… I’ll pass. He texted me last night. Asked what I was doing. “Rumi Gay Night, you?” No response. And then Jenny and I swore we saw him on the dance floor. I was livid. “Do you want to go say hi to him?” “No.” And then thank goodness the boy smiled and wasn’t gap-toothed. Just another tall blonde with a German face. Phew. So Jenny and I are dancing with the Colombians while I look for Leandro (we lost him when we came back from the ladies’ room.) He finds us and walks us across the dance floor. Of course the Colombians follow. (I think Jenny is holding her boy Felipe’s hand.) “Pensé que les chamullen,” Leandro tells me. I explain to him that the tall guy is Jenny’s friend and a Colombian polo player, but that the other one is bothering me.

The rude Colombian still wanted a picture with me

Jenny, Meg and Leandro at Rumi/Club Be/RU:be

So Leandro dances with me and keeps me from having to deal with the poseur-rollinga. This dude was rude upon introduction: “¿De donde eres?” “De los Estados Unidos.” He makes a face like he doesn’t understand. “De Texas,” I clarify. Still nothing. “¡Tejas!” I yell into his ear. Nope. So he asks me, “¿De donde sos?” Didn’t I just answer that? I tell him again. He seems to hear me this time. “Then why do you talk like you’re from here?” “Because I live here,” I answer. He switched to English and his is hard to understand. And he’s pushy. Like his friend has got Jenny so that makes me his. I finally motion that it’s too loud to talk. (British Hostel Guy had told me earlier in the night that I should start being meaner. This was after he asked if I was from a particularly nice part of Dallas because I hold myself so well. I tell him, “what kind of question is that?” and that I’d rather credit years of ballet.) He tries to dance with me – another grab her hand and spin her ‘round type – and I step away. “What’s wrong? You don’t have t be so serious.” I tell him he was rude earlier and I don’t want to dance with him. He looks at me puzzled and grabs me again. Finally, exasperated, I tell him, “Look, I come to Gay Night so boys will leave me alone.” “I don’t get it. Are you normal or are you a lesbian?” “I’m straight, but I’m not interested.” I should’ve just told him I was a lesbian, because even then he didn’t get the (rather strong) hint. But I get so sick of the token straight guys at Rumi Tuesday who grab at me because they’re homophobes afraid of getting harassed in the club. (When I told Andres I was going to see Balca at Gay Night, he asked if I’d pretend to be his girlfriend. I told him “no” without thinking twice about whether it would hurt his feelings.) I thought Jenny’s Polo Boy was a jerk by association. Dime con quien andas y te digo quien eres. But Leandro kept me company and eventually Polo Boy, Felipe, left. He asked me if we were going to Museum – where he met Jenny last week. I tell him no. Why not? Because I’m here right now. And I have to sleep some time. Museum plays the same track list every Wednesday night. Same songs at the same times. If I here MIKA start to play, I know it’s 2 am and time to go home. But anyway, last night I saw my first drag queen, Electra. I do believe I have heard of her from Silvana. I wanted to ask for a picture with her, but she was very busy and very popular, so I snapped an action shot instead.

Drag Queen Electra being lifted up over the crowd

At 4 am Mariano Balcarce, AKA DJ Balca AKA El Cochino is hard at work
Ezequiel (who friended me today, and whose relationship status is “es complicado”) told me that the transvestites would love it if I took pictures with them. I just have to be nice and ask politely. Shouldn’t even offer to pay them. They’ll love the attention, especially from a blonde American girl. I want to take pictures with them for my birthday. Outside Crobar. But I imagine I’ll be working at Sugar the Saturday before. I made sure Con would play The Beatles’ birthday song at midnight for me. I figure any other “celebration” at a bar or club would be just with Jenny and Annemarie, maybe Damian. I’ve been bad at keeping up with the few others who are left here, and they’re all so busy in the real world with real jobs. Might as well celebrate with my new bar coworker friends and make some money while I’m at it. Have a fancy dinner at Piegari later. Twenty three seems like a good year for a wine-and-dine birthday. And of course Olsen brunch the day of. Invite Conrad, Gillea, Sara, Warner, Michael, Mark, etc. And Jenny, Annemarie, Damian, Silvana and Juan Jo… Anyway, Ezequiel said he used to skate around the park where the transvestites work, and since they get there around 8 pm, he knows a few of them. Odd. Matt at the bar told me my Ezequiel was not the Mexican Ezequiel. I didn’t think so. Unless he was lying to me. But apparently on Monday night while I was with Ezequiel, Matt was on a date with Ezequiel’s cousin and she cleared things up. A cute British girl with an upturned nose was asking about my Ezequiel. “Where does he live?” she demanded. I don’t know, I didn’t go home with him. We shared a few distinguishing details (scar above the right eye, works at Verizon) and determined mine was not one of the two Ezequiels she had dated. Neither was Jenny’s Ezequiel from Museum back in March. So many Ezequiels in this city. How bizarre. Left Rumi around 4:30 am or so. Looked for Leandro to say thanks and goodbye. He was waiting by the door in his sweater and hoodie. “I have to go,” he told me in English. Poor thing has got to work in the morning. He leaves with Braces Bad English who gave me a piece of gum an hour before. Best Bel-Dent I’d had. And there was also “I want to kiss you” Argentine snowboard instructor moving to Aspen. I never quite caught his name and he wandered off after telling me, “You are the prettiest girl in this club. I think you know. My words in English cannot describe.” I wanted to tell him, “Well then, tell me in Spanish,” but I didn’t want to sound conceited. And there were also the Argentine and Brazilian boys. I thought it best to leave when we did though, because the dance floor was clearing out and I didn’t want one to think they were going home with us. So we flagged down a cab and had them drop us off. I wonder if soon we will just tell the cabbies “la esquina de Starbucks, por favor.”