Santiago, Chile. 1:15 P.M. Sunday, June 2nd.

              Christian wrestled himself awake and was hit with a horrendous urge to vomit. His head pounded like a kick-drum, and his stomach ached of a long night at the bar. He looked to his right and saw an adjacent bathroom. With the grace of a polar bear, he stumbled out of bed, shut the bathroom door behind him, and proceeded to throw-up. During his 10 minutes of upheaval, Christian made a truce with himself that he would never stay out past five in the morning again, and then he made a truce that he would never touch alcohol again, concluding that nothing good ever came from it. When he finally recovered,  he peaked out of the bathroom doorway to see the blurry image of an attractive woman on the bed, looking to be about thirty. She was wearing nothing but tiny booty shorts and a t-shirt. “Holy Lord!!” He thought to himself…. maybe he could reconsider his truces. 

            Thoughts began cycling in a whirlwind of images and sensations. This obviously was her apartment, but he couldn’t remember anything about arriving. He remembered laughing with his American friends in the club. He remembered giddily dancing to Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky.” He remembered repeating to himself many times that he should not forget his backpack at the concierge. He had vague images of batting a glass of Pisco out of a girls hand, and then frantically shuffling to the bar to buy a replacement drink. He remembered….

           “You drank too much last night,”  (Bebiste demasiado anoche) The girl spoke without opening her eyes. 

           Christian closed the bathroom door behind him and snuck to the bed, “yes, I know…I’m sorry!” (si, lo sé…lo siento!)

          “Do you remember getting here by taxi or anything about the taxi ride?” (Te acuerdas de que nos vinimos en taxi o de algo del viaje en el taxi?”)

          “A little,” (muy poco) Christian responded with a sense of bewilderment.

          “Do you remember what we talked about while we were waiting for the taxi?” (Te acuerdas de lo que estuvimos hablando mientras esperamos el taxi?)  Christian noted that she spoke Spanish without pronouncing her S’s. She was most certainly Chilean. ‘Hell yea!’ He thought to himself. 

           “I don’t remember a lot…tell me what happened!” (No me acuerdo de mucho, dime lo que pasó!)

          (Te acuerdas que botaste una mesa??) “Do you remember knocking over a table??” She put her hand to her forehead and shook her head slightly. 

        (Boté una mesa!??) “I knocked over a table!??” Christian began laughing… it was important to get a good laugh out of it. Sometimes getting a good initial laugh can dampen the ensuing shame.

           (De verdad no sabía que estabas tan borracho! Parecías arriba de la pelota no mas!)  “The table thing looked like an accident. I really didn’t realize how drunk you were! You seemed happy, but not wasted!”

         “Well, there is one thing I do remember…you found me dead sexy,” Christian included a hand swing as he said it.  (Bueno, me acuerdo de algo…Me encontraste super sexy, dijo Christian.)

          “Sexy, no. I found you cute and fun to be around.”  (No. Sexy no. Te encontré lindo y de buena onda)

            “Okay, so we had a crazy fun time! We danced a lot!”  (Si, lo pasamos muy bien. Bailamos harto!)  Christian wasn’t absolutely sure if they danced or not, but if there was booze and a woman involved, the likelihood was extremely high.

        “Yes, that was fun! You really wanted to keep dancing,” She said.  (Si si! Fue divertedo, de verdad querias seguir bailando! dijo ella) 

          (Si, porque bailo seco seco!)   “Because I dance so damn well!” Christian boasted. 

          (Para un gringo bailas bien, pero no eres seco seco, dijo ella.) “You dance well for a North American, but nothing amazing.” The girl slowly opened her eyes toward the harsh daylight beaming through the window. “Do you remember what happened when we got here?” (te acuerdas de lo que paso cuando venimos?)

          (Fue loco loco. harta harta pasion! Dijo Christian.) “Things got crazy crazy heavy!  Alarmingly passionate!”

             The girl laughed out loud, and sat up. “Claro!” (Obviously!)

          “You gave me a private show in pantees! It was like a Daddy Yankee music video!!”  (Bailaste en calzones, solamente para mi! Bailaste un video de musica de Daddy Yankee!” Dijo Christian.)


           She continued laughing, “You’ve obviously learned the best parts of Latin culture. In reality we kissed briefly, and you excused yourself to the bathroom. Then I got to listen to you throw up.” (has aprendido lo mejor de la cultura latino. En realidad, besamos brevemente, y despues fuiste a vomitar. Tenía la opportunidad de escucharte.)

          “Ohhhhh….” Christian did have a fuzzy memory of a kiss. “Alright, I’m getting your thought process right now. You’re thinking, maybe this guy has some good characteristics, but he’s still just such a goddamn drunken gringo!! (Bueno, yo sé lo que estas pensando…. Este gringo tiene algunas characteristicas buenas, pero todavia es un puto gringo borracho!!)

         “More or less, now go clean up the bathroom. There are spray and towels in the cupboard.” (Mas o menus, andate a limpiar el baño. Hay cloro y toallas en la mesa)  

          Christian sprayed Clorox onto a paper towel and began cleaning the floor in an almost militant fashion—the hangover was subsiding rapidly. He realized that he got too amped the night before, which was why he drank too much…..he could blame his goof troop of gringo buddies, and he could blame cheaply priced piscola.

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         It was invigorating for him to know that he had pulled some of the worst moves in the book, and yet she still wasn’t completely repulsed.  Yea he vomited in her bathroom multiple times,  yea he still barely recognized her, yea he didn’t have a clue as to what her name was…. That was alright, he was living to fight another day. 

         As he scrubbed vigorously, he remembered what his Chilean buddy had once told him… dress like a homosexual, and be bold, and Chilean girls will love it. A week earlier, he bought tight bright blue pants, and a vibrant blue jacket with orange zippers.  Although he wasn’t currently wearing his jacket, he still had his bright pants on, and they were dazzled in bits of glitter from a piñata that burst earlier in the night— he was definitely covered on the homosexual front!  This assuredly would work in his favor. Now all he had to do was be loud, and up the humor quotient. 

         (Un caballero no tiene memoria!) “A gentleman has no memory!” Christian commented from the bathroom as he brushed his teeth. 

          She giggled. “Quite literally!” (En este caso literalmente!)

          Christian laughed, “Yea, I guess so. I want to ask you….What kind of sense of humor do you have??” (“Creo que si. te quiero preguntar….que tipo de humor tienes??” Preguntó Christian) Christian was honestly curious to hear the response.

         She smiled, “I’m ironic, very ironic. And you?” (Soy muy ironica, y tu?)

        (Mi humor es muy absurdo)  “I would say absurd!”  Christian was drawing a blank on how to say the words quirky, and irreverent in spanish. “Absurd and crazy,” (absurdo, y loco!)…sounded like a good bet!