sin falta

either the chicago metropolitan area is replete and crawling with men from argentina, or i really am a magnet for them. last night we went to this bar after dinner. it was cool and had hookahs on the tables which you could reserve for the small fee of a bottle of something. so we got the cheapest thing - an $85 bottle of champagne - and paid the twenty bucks to get the hookah going. i sat there with my kir royale contentedly blowing smoke rings, one... right after... the other. after about forty-five minutes of this i tried to stand up but was too dizzy, so i sat down for a few more minutes and tried to make my way to the bathroom. when i returned (and i know i am abbreviating and leaving out parts) they were playing really good music and i felt like dancing. so T joined me a few feet from the table (it is a little awkward dancing in front of your brother). then she sat down, and these two guys walked past us. one of them tried to dance with me and the other said something. i said, what did you say? and he said something, and i noticed... he had an accent. so i ask the requisite where are you from? and he says (you'll never guess where...) ARGENTINA. so, surprized i say no me digas! sabes, siempre me los atraigo, no sé cómo... ah, eso no quiere decir que vos estés atraido a mí, pero siempre me los encuentro. then the cómo te llamás? exchange of names and i reveal viví un año en argentina... alfredo says ah, sos de chicago; pensé que eras argentina!

i'm sure you didn't, but that's a very flattering suggestion.

this is the second time in four months this has happened. sin falta, they always find me.