Attack of the Trannies!

Scene: Club Chic, Palermo. 06.00, daybreak, after four hours of dancing.

I'm exiting Club Chic as the scene is winding down. It's light out and I am regretting not having my sunglasses. The club is--oddly enough-- located in the middle of a large wooded park called Bosques de Palermo and we have to cross this to get back home. George, Juan and I are walking up Sarmiento towards Plaza Italia when, up ahead and between us and a food stand, are two trannies looking for the last street action of the night. They start hollering and walking confidently towards us as my friends and I giggle like English schoolgirls at the oncoming prospects and joke about how much we would pay (Answer: suprisingly little).

Before we're done with our jokes, these two "ladies" are essentially assaulting us: the thick topless one chose me while the taller one chose my friend George. We're still walking, mind you, though obviously slowed by the interference; they grab by the shoulders and promise things for various prices. Ew.  [I'm almost positive this caused me to throw up in my mouth a little, ruined my stomach for the next 24 hours and began a chain of events that led to perhaps the single-most embarrassing situation I've ever been in some 6 hours later. But that's another story...]

As suddenly as these Sirens of the Night appeared they disappeared, this time into one of the many passing taxis. Then, like a Saharan mirage, a guy scuttles towards us like Zoidberg from Futurama, yelling in our direction (at us?) between bites of his super milanesa sandwich:

"Did those bitches rob you?! Check your pockets. All they do is rob people coming out of the club; they'll get close to them and then reach into their pockets. Fucken whores!"

We all check our pockets but seem to have everything we had before the assault save a little dignity. Nothing is missing from any of us. Are we lucky? Have we escaped with only an assault? It sure looks that way. Bad. Ass.

In celebratory ecstasy George orders an hamburguesa; Juan isn't so brave and my stomach is still reeling. As George eats, I notice two guys on a bench about ten meters up the road: one is laying on the bench, well asleep while the other sits on the backrest. Both look homeless and I figure they are simply taking turns laying on the bench or some other naive thing. Ha! The guy who's sitting is going through the sleeping guy's pockets! He sees me looking but continues anyway, undeterred. After a few minutes of slow-motion pick-pocketing the perpetrator leaves, disappearing into the woods from whence the trannies had come some minutes before. Perhaps they are the same person? I don't know, I'm tired. Just another night in Buenos Aires. SL

[Edit: I still am not certain, but those trannies may have taken some money from me after all, about ARS$60. For those of you keeping score, I've "donated" about ARS$125 thus far.]