Says Forro to All Carjackers

Buenos Aires. What more can be said? I'm sitting at the computer in my hostel on Godoy Cruz street in Palermo. It's eleven in the morning and I've hardly gotten out of bed, because my late nights have been dominating my schedule. Last night my friends Emanuel and Paulie took us to a parilla. It's a restaurant that specializes in beef. Grilled argentinian meat.

I was taken to the upper balcony of the restaurant where pebbles lined the floor, and tealights left the dining room in a dim haze. Earlier in the day, a conflagration forty miles deep in the countryside had cast an unnatural smoky haze throughout the city. Amidst the ethereal ambience, I was led to a butcher paper covered table, complete with crayolas of various sizes. Immediately I set to work on a River Plate Logo, in anticipation of our Libertadores game tomorrow.

I was sipping some vino tinto when our waitress brought the orders. My plate was honestly the size of a stop sign. Aside from the medium rare sitting near the bottom, there was an assortment of culinary goodies awaiting ravenous consumption. Squash puree, roasted red pepper, roasted provologne, roasted onion, and a fried egg sitting atop an unhealthy mound of french fries stared me down in the longest predinner standoff I've had. The chef had issued the challenge, and now it was sitting beneath me. After taking a long swallow of wine, I set my glass down and set to work. It was, without a doubt, the most quiet meal I've had in months.

An hour later, with the dishwasher's work done for him, and the wine bottle dripped dry, We climbed into Paulie's Peugot and left. To exhausted from the week to go out, Paulie drove us down Avenida Santa Fe, to bring us back to the hostel. Turning onto Manu's street, the way became blocked by a garbage truck. Out of nowhere, this crazy man runs up to my door, grabs the handle, and me a rabid look. I was captivated by these insane pupils, while viciously he tied to rip our door open. Unsuccessful, he went to Lenay's door and tried again. Insanity overpowering deduction, he returned to my door and grabbed the handle.

Snapped out of the trance, I break into my spanish, shouting every Ecuadorian, Peruvian and Argentine curse that I had been learning for this one moment. I don't know if the man had even registered the finger flashing in his face, he just ran off, leaving as quickly as he came.