Argentina-Day Two

Last night we went to the Empire Thai Restaurant per the recommended of Luis Federico de Souts aka super hot Ivy League Buenos Aires Guide. Let me mention that every single location that this man has recommended has turned out to be beyond our expectations. His recommendation have led us to the elegant and the chicest people of this beautiful city.

The Empire Thai had a long bar with exotic light extention on their walls that gave the impression of dim moonlight. They kept fresh long stem flowers in every available corner. The highlight of this place was not the ambiance, or the luxurious leather couches but rather the food. We ordered a pad Thai, potsticks of chicken, beef, lamb and some wine.

The first bite left my girlfriend flabbergasted and wide eyed. I could see the green of her eyes even in the dimmest light. She turned to me and began to call out for the holiest of holy. ¨OMG¨… I prepared to take my first bite with precaution after seeing her first reaction and began calling out for ALA. She began, ¨ Chic that shit out there, is NOTHING, Nothing, nothing, I’m mean nothing, nothing….this shit right here is Beef-o-Cryp to Chronic¨. And it had to be the crack of Beef, the taste was so intense, it became agonizing to chew every tender bite from the thought that we were one more bite away from completing our juiciest cut of beef. Hands down, like nothing we had ever tasted before. Chicago is know for outstanding restaurants, no one can debate that we have the top of line restaurants, but nothing compared to the cuts we had at the Empire Thai.

After dinner with heighten spirits we began to walk down the street without any clarity to where we would go to next. That’s when we slowly began to approach a familiar tune playing so loud it was escaping through the walls of the bar, Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean. Without a word we knew we had found our bar, the Jameson Sports Bar. The music was not disappointing; all the familiar tunes we enjoy back home.

We met a pair of locals who were very pleasant and took a liking to us. That was until we suggested we have shots of Jameson’s, only logical since we were in the Jameson’s Bar. They looked at us with fear in their eyes. Women out here just don’t drink Jameson’s. My friend pressed them for an explanation. ¨They just don’t, the liquor is too strong for women. Besides it does not look right for a woman to be drinking whisky!¨ No, he didn’t was my first thought. ¨What does not LOOK RIGHT?? A woman drinking whisky? Are you serious?¨

We were so out done. The night before a similar Machista View slapped us in the face in same way, the culprit was a local cab driver. We had a huge manifestation early Tuesday, where the president was scheduled to speak. She is the second female president to hold the post, second to their 1st, the famous Evita de Perron. It was over the farmer’s blockade of all food to the city of Buenos Aires. Currently, they protest the increase food tax that ultimately affects the farmers selling price directly. I asked the cab driver what he thought about the manifestation held earlier. Well he went on and on only to state that women can fill many positions in the work force but they perform poorly in high executive positions. He felt that women in high executive positions, such as the president of the country, did not serve well because they generally are incline to waste time gossiping. Gossiping? I asked. He confirmed, gossiping!

Well, when we ran into another Machista blow at the Jameson Bar were determined to challenge their Machista View and forget about political correctness. That..s how I would describe it when my friend started flapping her arms and clucking like a chicken around the two. The other men around were looking and they were so humiliated that in order to make her stop and keep me from falling off my stool in laughter they went to get a round of shots. They did not bring Jamesons, instead they brought a round of Tequila. We cheered and took our shots and realize that we were the only two who had happiness in our face. Our local friends could not make a standard size shot of Tequila go down, and what was worst was the distortion they had plastered on their face. ¨You take that right now Mr. Men, how dare you not finish a shot of Tequila?¨ And they did after they fixed their panties.

Suddenly we had bigger balls than they did and well that is not very attractive in such a Machista Country. We thanked them for their hospitality and left cracking up.

We certainly gained a greater appreciation for all those men back home. Our men in Chicago would never and I mean never back down from taking a shot with their girl, even if it was the equivalent of gasoline like Jameson.