I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream Because We Had Too Much Wine

 

This past weekend marked our first overnight group trip, which means it was also the first time the Porteños (people from Buenos Aires) raised the terrorism alert level from Green to Orange this year. Those poor bastards. In hopes of capturing a historical moment in the destruction of American-Porteño relations, I decided to keep scrupulous tabs on the trip and how likely we were to be imprisoned. However, after learning that I was functionally illiterate following the bus ride to Buenos Aires, I decided to keep scrupulous tabs on myself because that seemed like something most 3-year olds could accomplish. I broke down my wellbeing into ability to speak Spanish, capacity to walk short distances unaided, desire to maim, incapacitate, or commit manslaughter, and miscellaneous, which changed depending on the day. After reading this, I’m sure you will all agree that I had no business being out in public by Sunday; by most definitions I was a walking hate crime, and we should all thankful that food has a calming effect on me.

Thursday Night, 10:00 PM.

Everything is sunshine and puppies at the bus terminal. I’m running on a legitimate amount of sleep, and I have just eaten. I dread the bus ride because I’m statistically more likely to be struck by lightning while winning the lottery than sleep in a vehicle, but I will not be daunted. I will curl up in a ball and cry my way through this bus ride like a man, and tomorrow I will sustain myself with caffeine, food, and more crying. Your move, Buenos Aires.

Spanish Ability: 9/10. Puedo hablar muy bien ahora, gracias!
Physical Capacity to Walk: 10/10. Put my legs in, coach. I’m ready to sit.

Murderous Intent: 3/10. I’ve been told that buses are inanimate, but I would consider shivving one in the radiator right now if there were a better travel option.

Body Odor: 3/10. My dinner featured heavily in garlic and onions. I expect disgruntled passengers by the end of the night. Nevertheless, I showered today and recently applied deodorant. Am I not merciful?

Friday Night, 10:00 PM.

It was a Christmas miracle. I managed to sleep on the bus for 4 hours, which may have saved the lives of upwards of 300 Porteños. Today we toured a lot, and I would consider my legs significantly shot, but for dinner we were served wine. I think there was food too, but my memory is hazy at this point, and the bottle is only half finished. I’m telling myself it’s an insult in Argentine culture to leave that bottle unfinished, because that’s what my inner frat boy is telling me, and sometimes I can’t differentiate between the two. They just look and sound so much alike, you know?

Spanish Ability: 15/10. Che hombre, debemos salir al boliche por toda la noche, boludo! Estoy gracias en la casa de tu mama, jaja! Verdad.

Physical Capacity to Walk: 0/10. What strength I had left after the tour has safely been eliminated by the wine. Jesús, take the wheel. Safely in your weathered taxi-driving hands.

Murderous Intent: 1/10. Unless it’s a crime to commit wineslaughter, I’m innocent of all charges, occifer.

Kidney Defense: 10/10. My kidneys have remained secure in my back region, and my newfound technique of spinning around violently and at random intervals ensures that no thief will have an easy time of cutting them free. I’m watching you, Jesús the cabdriver…

Saturday Night, 10:00 PM.

Alright, judging by the people around me, I’m pretty sure I’m still in Argentina. And we’re at dinner again, so that means I’m in the right group, because I’m pretty sure we’re always eating. But oh god, no, that waitress person is coming straight for me, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s probably going to speak Spanish at me. No, no, I can handle this. I got 5 hours of sleep last night. And there’s somehow more wine in this country, even though I’m convinced our group drank literally all of it last night. Wine sustain me, here goes nothing.

Spanish Ability: 5/10. Me darías un bistec con almohada por favor? También me gusta ir a la playa durante calabaza, de nada. Verdado. Nailed it.
Physical Capacity to Walk: 3/10. More sitting today has ensured that my legs still function. The wine is again attempting to sabotage this ability, but I will not be denied. There are stairs to climb at the hotel, and I remember that fact tonight.

Murderous Intent: 4/10. I killed it when I bought this dashing long-sleeved collared shirt! I may strangle someone with it too if I don’t get 6 hours of sleep tonight.

Ebonics Learned: 9/10. Although my delivery is stilted and still very much in the “Honkey” spectrum of the dialect, I have learned some key phrases like “She’s giving me Christmas,” and “I’m not about that life.” Damn, it feels phenomenal to be a gangster.

Sunday Night, 10:00 PM.

On bus. Go home now. Word hard. Spanish fail. Sleep bueno.

Spanish Ability: -2/10. No, YOU shut up and give me the hamburguesa with queso, por favor!  Does no one speak American around here!?

Physical Capacity to Walk: 0/10. I believe I was carried to my bus seat. There is no conformation of this aside from the shoulder marks embedded in my stomach. Those could be from anything.

Murderous Intent: 9/10. In most countries, I would be considered feral right now and put down for society’s sake. Thankfully, I’m not in most countries.

Bus Loathing: 9^3/4 /10. Ha, Harry Potter. Nailed it again.