My melodramatic exit from Bs As

So I've always liked to be one to go out in style, and my exit from dirty Buenos Aires certainly carried on with that tradition. I did the pizza party one last time for the hostels, needing to do SOMETHING for the free accomm I had just taken from them the last few nights. Thankfully, it did NOT include the fucking pub quiz this time, and the manager from the other hostel was gone by the time I came with my group, so it was pretty smooth sailing.

I sat with my new English friends for a while, after dancing around and flirting with the barman I last saw for his birthday drinks, and was feeling pretty confident that tonight was going to be a fitting farewell for me and this town. Sadly, I was mistaken.

One French guy who wanted to party stuck around with me until the bar closed, the English people having gone back to the hostel, and when I was in the toilet the barman LEFT without saying goodbye. I thought he was just out the back so I waited for him, since he said he wanted to party, but then found out he was gone. The French guy went back to the hostel when I said I would wait, and so I was sat with the boring Brazilian and Columbian guys who worked at the hostel.

On top of this, the cute receptionist from the other hostel - little R - didn`t show, nor did my Brazilian friend OR Fantasma from Iguazu. All of which promised to come out with me. And the cute tattoo artist didn`t call, which I expected. So you can imagine, after a few freebie beers at the pizza party, how pissed off I was when I stormed home at about 12:30am. Well, you don`t storm unless you`re angry, really, do you.

First stop, Facebook. I was in a mood and had to tell the world, as you do. Found the tattooist online, who tried to get me to go to his house. Yes, thanks for that, I don`t really feel like a booty call at all. How about no, you fuckstick, I am not getting public transport ALONE at this time of night on a Saturday to your dodgy neighbourhood without even the guarantee that you will meet me at the station, be awake or even be at your house. Or that your fucking girlfriend doesn`t come home. Oh, sorry, not your gf, just the girl who thought she was pregnant with your baby yesterday. Next!

My cute Argo friend who I had drinks with the night before was online, but she had said she wasn`t going out cos of work, so I crossed her off the list. To be honest, by that stage there wasn`t really a list anymore and I just wanted OUT! Bs As had shown its true colours tonight and I was sick of using that palette.

So I spoke to the receptionist, she looked up times for buses to Cordoba and I packed my shit, and left. Well, momentarily, until I realised my wallet and new camera were still under my pillow for safe-guarding. Jeez, if I lost my camera AGAIN I would literally walk in front of my bus instead of onto it. Got on the 24hr bus to the bus terminal at about 2am, a highly productive thing to do on a Saturday night with a ridiculously heavy backpack and all my worldly possessions in my flimsy canvas handbag. Found the ticket venders easily enuf, and got to the gate with 10 mins to spare, no stress.

My resolve to leave this town was firm, so I was actually in a happy mood. Didn`t even mind paying exorberant prices for a shitty little sandwich that would serve me well later in the 11-hour bus ride. And also asked a hot guy waiting near me if he was heading to Cordoba. Hey, ever the opportunist. Sadly, he wasn`t. "Que pena" I said (that`s a shame)... he agreed. Boom.

Then I settled into my 2:30am bus and slept. Oh, how I slept. Nothing like a tantrum to drain your energy.