boliche la france: a pedophile’s dream?
Last night we decided to grab drinks at a hotspot that Cam used to frequent called Milión. It is a bar housed in an old mansion, complete with a cobble-stoned entry path, tall arched ceilings, and a large back terrace. Also to be expected are somewhat snobby, American-priced drinks…
We met up with a friend that both Cam and Em knew from the states, who has been living in Córdoba for the past 3 months. He arrived a little after 2, and Cam was able to utilize her power of persuasion in Spanish to get him and a friend in the bar after “closing.” However, we did not stay long- we headed off in search of another one of Cam’s former haunts, a hiphop club known as Fugees 99.
After driving around in a cab for what seemed like hours, Cam realized her memory was not as good as she thought (a theme to be repeated later in the night), and we were forced to abandon our original plan. We drove by two other clubs that were closed (two rare strokes of bad luck in Buenos Aires, of all cities) and drove by a club that Cam announced she had been to before.
After paying cover and walking into what looked like a giant auditorium, Cam realized that her memory had betrayed her once again. And, even worse, we experienced a feeling that we didn’t think would come to pass for at least a few more years—we felt ancient in the club. It seemed literally to be packed to the brim with 16 year olds. However, after paying a cover and receiving drink tickets, we thought that we would consider it an important cultural experience and we stuck it out.
What came to pass was a “desfile,” or “fashion show” (I choose to keep this in quotation marks) of select “chicas lindas” – freshly plucked girls (we are unsure if they were from the club) that paraded around in lingerie on a catwalk. There was also a select male model that got quite a bit of attention from the giddy teens. The remainder of the night featured bruises that were received from fits of awkward teenage dancing, a boy half-bumping Emma off a platform so he could take his place dancing in front of the crowd, and the occasional run-in with a group of fighting porteños. I suppose it is what we should have expected from an Argentine teen club.
