Friday, August 8, 2008

Of minor prophets and their prostitute wives

I ventured into Centro (downtown) today to have lunch with a friend. Good times. I didn't think our waitress was attractive at all when I first saw her, and then by the time we finished our meal (2.5 hours later; this is Argentina) I thought she was one of the most attractive girls I've seen here. Strange.

Afterwards, I wandered around downtown to check out 2 spas my Spanish professor told me would be good for getting a massage. The first one was a little expensive -- equal to what I'd pay in the US -- so I went to check out the second.

Well, that was strange. All I asked the girl at the front desk is whether I needed an appointment for a massage. She asks me, "Clasico o [ ]?" I have no idea what she's saying. Next thing I know I'm following her, and then being led into a dark room (the "relaxation room where you talk to the girls") where there were 2 very attractive girls in slinky black dresses. I'm not exactly sure, since my tourguide didn't speak English, but I'm pretty sure these were the masseuses.

So I don't know, maybe they weren't working girls, but I turned around and made for the door like LaDanian Tomlinson near the endzone. If they weren't prostitutes, they certainly made me feel like they were.

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