So, we are back in the hotel room formerly known as the icebox. I say formerly because the room is so hot that is causing me to sweat more than a virgin's (thank you mick and larry anning). We spent the noche at alvarito's where the slogan is "if you don't know alvarito's, you don't know maracaibo"
Another night hitting the town in latin america brought my worst fears (no drama this time) to mind: every chick is either a prostitute or a man with a good, cheap surgeon. Tonight, I successfully managed to get the hottest girl in the bar to dance with me (read, all over me). It was pretty amazing, I managed to not fall over or step on her feet! Trouble is, all the while (45 - 50 minutes) I'm dancing with her, I am en guard against her being a prostitute or a man (the surgeons down here are amazing so piss off). I never got the chance to find out as some croatian men caught my attention after a quick bano break (not really hans).
The whole night, our drinking habit was suported by some prostitutes who thought that equipping us with beer goggles would help them earn our business. Uh, no, but thanks for the beers. Skanks.
After leaving, we stopped at whopper express where luis and turtle (aka roger) acquired some nocturnal, drunken nourishment. One of the cooks clearly smoked too much (insert local drug of choice here - I bet there's more weed in washington sq park than all of maracaibo) because he picked mexico to win and actually believed it. Whata douche.
After leaving the whopper express, we stopped in at Mumba where nobody wanted anything to do with us. I danced like it was Stanley's in chicago on saturday, june 24, 2007. Yes, I did some pushups for the crowd.
Off to Merida this morning. Hopefully we arrive in time to ride the world's longest cable car.
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