Last Night on the Job

Just went over to Puerto Madero to buy my Buquebus ticket to Uruguay. Wanted to sample “the best medialunas in the world” from Alimentari, but like everything else in Microcentro, it is closed on weekends. There were three boys inside eating what looked like Wonderbread from the bag, and the front door was gated shut. So I am at Il Gran Caffe on Calle Florida, rejuvenating myself with café con leche. This place is chockfull of tourists. Another Frommer’s recommendations. Probably because it’s pretty inside. It serves Illy coffee alongside filigree and gold leaf details. My last night at work was a good Last Hurrah. I poured myself a drink and was able to chat with Conrad a bit as he stopped by with a friend.

Conrad & Meg

Meg & Kristin

Meg & Malcom

When some old man ordered a Fernet and Coke, I decided not only would I make it for him (as a waitress I’m not supposed to make drinks,) but that I’d make one for myself as well. Since most drinks we serve are half alcohol, half mixer (about a six second pour,) I made the Fernet that way. Well, as it turns out, Fernet is only supposed to be 1/3 Branca and the rest Coca-cola. Oops. I thought mine was strong but the man didn’t complain as he toasted my last night with me. There was a publishers’ party in The Russian Room, and eventually Con kicked some of the drunk girls off of the bar so Jamie and I could dance. We danced to some Mika song that I hate, and Con told us to get back to work. But since I don’t even like that song I stayed on for Aretha Franklin’s “Think.” Then later they played “It’s Raining Men” – after last week’s performance to The Weather Girls’ hit, I’m pretty much expected to dance to that one. (Hey, we won the 8th Grade Talent Show with that number.) Then later I got up again to dance to “Brown Girl in the Ring,” which is way longer than I remembered. Then there was a group dance to “YMCA,” and eventually I was up there alone dancing to Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love.” I was being very flirty and we later had to kick one of the guys out who kept following me when I was trying to clean up. He was grabbing me and blocking my path, and when I refused him he called me names. I could handle “boluda,” but when he called me “puta” and “bitch,” I motioned for him to come over and then introduced him to Santi, who escorted him out. I suppose I am a bit to blame for acting like a shameless flirt, but everyone knows when you’re dancing it doesn’t count. There was also a Brazilian dude who seemed pretty aggressive, but he was one of Santiago’s capoeira friends so I let him slide. He only speaks Portuguese and every now and then I’d ask Santiago to translate, but I knew what besiño meant.

Brazilian Dude & Meg

Santiago & Meg

Dancing on the bar with Jamie

When Jamie and I were dancing on the bar, some guy took his shoe off to compare foot sizes. She in Birkenstocks, I in my Lucchesse’s. We’re tall. We have big feet. Size 40 like my new tan ballet flats with the messy bow. The pair I had wanted in Palermo Soho was available in my size, right under my nose in Alto Palermo. I bought them after I went to this brunch spot with Andres Friday afternoon. He claimed they served pancakes and milkshakes, but really it was panqueques and licuados, which are different. It’s okay; I can have the real thing in a week. He insisted on paying, and I didn’t feel like arguing. I just tell myself he knows how little money I’m making.

Goodbye Kiss from Matt

After work on Friday I went to Kentucky Pizzeria with Kristin and her Chilean boyfriend Pedro. We discussed how it’s annoying to get in bed when it’s bright outside. The sun was rising as I walked home from Plaza Italia. I don’t think I’ll miss that part of work, even though I’ve made friends with the porteros along my route.