To read the previous day’s (5) adventures, click here
Day 6:
Sometimes you wake up completely at peace with the world, swaddled in a cocoon of soft clean sheets and the pure assurance that you couldn’t possibly be more comfortable than you are in this moment, in this space, and at this time…in South America.
And then you wake up like I did this morning – itching from glitter, hot from lack of air conditioning and worried about whether I was in a sex trafficker’s den…in South America.
Then I remembered my Airbnb experience from yesterday and wished I was so lucky.
After a quick hop and a skip into a shower that made me feel like I needed another shower, I packed my belongings in record timing and left without saying any farewells to all the life-long friends that I hadn’t made during my 24-hour stay.
I still had a bit of time before I could check in to my new home in Ipanema beach, so I decided to do a bit of costume shopping for the day since I had exhausted the meagre supply of outfits I had brought and I couldn’t stand to disappoint Sara again. I also didn’t want to get glitter bitch-slapped until I gave her whatever money I had.
After prancing around town I decided that it was a Tutu/Princess kind of day. I walked down to Ipanema to enjoy a bit of the beach life since it was a sunny day, I wasn’t in a crack house and the beach was throbbing with good looking men. I bought myself a cocktail, changed into my swimming cozie and went for a quickie dip-ie before realising that if my bags were taken on this beach my life would be literally over and pulled a-running-Jesus over the water to get back to them.
Time to head on over to my next and last hostel in Brazil to get myself checked in. By a strange coincidence, the lady at the front desk saw my armband with the name of my previous hostel in Copacabana and informed me her sister currently works there. After scrutinizing her face I realised her sis was the one who taught me how to twerk like it was my profession on my first nights stay. I took it as a sign that this will be a good stay.
And then I proceeded to never see Front Desk Lady again.
I was taken to my shared dorm room, given some sheets for the pillows and blankets and was left to my own devices. Suddenly, in walks my dorm mates – three lovely girls from England; Allie, Melissa and Rachel – on a South American tour like myself.
There’s a strange air in the room now that I’ve arrived. They’re used to each other from travelling together…and now there’s me; a strange towering (somewhat hunky) man in their midst.
So I do what any proper fellow would do in this situation; I let out a “Hey girls heeeeeeey” and fawn over their outfits. They visibly relax and the tension leaves the room as we swap adventure stories and plans while we all live together for the next few days.
It’s a gratifying feeling; making my first real proper hostel friends. My mind had been too all over the place while sorting my life out at Copacabana to really connect with anyone staying there. Mainly because most of them didn’t speak English, but even the one or two Irish and British tourists I had come across had always been only a chat in passing. These girls would go on to become my first hostel crew.
A few days later when I left the hostel I would proceed to never see them again.
The girls head off to the beach and invite me along with them but I tell them I just have to finish unpacking my stuff and check on a bit of admin before I meet them there.
As I finish putting everything its place I come to the discovery that my phone is not working properly. This is a major issue because it’s my main source of contact and it has the banking apps that keep me in check with my rapidly dwindling funds for this trip.
The one big warning I had received from every other flight attendant I had worked with or who lived in Brazil was; check your accounts constantly as card fraud was super common and you did not want to look at your account after a week of busy partying and realise someone had cleaned you out while you were shit-faced. I was convinced in these next few hours I would enter the life of a pauper and become stranded overseas from everyone and everything I loved.
What the fuck was I going to do? I had planned this trip so carefully, employing the use of multiple cards, dollars packed into different parts of my bag and in different carriers, a backup phone….
Oh. Right.
Okay well, luckily that did seem to sort itself out. And it only took me half an hour to remember that. And then to make a few more calls and changes over my apps to be able to see that my account was fine and that I hadn’t been made destitute within the one hour I wasn’t connected to the internet.
Feeling relieved and more than a little foolish, I went to go join the girls by the pool who had made a quiet return during my bout of hysteria.
Hours passed with cocktails and playful splashing until we had to part our separate ways as they left to go visit a friends birthday barbeque and I got on my bedazzling princess outfit to meet the awesome foursome in their apartment which was luckily just down the road from me.
I arrived as the lot of them were getting ready and in the perfect state to make my big reveal; a giant ass fan that was practically a steal on the streets of Rio (the little old ladies selling them can’t run very fast, shame).
Below is a vid of my entrance into their boudoir.
After assisting them into their corsets and bodices (and then the girls with theirs) we were all ready and off to see yet another Bloco in town. Bedazzled with the help of some discarded Carnival outfits, courtesy of the Sambadrome from the night before.
We arrived with chirpy spirits and many a gander at a central part of the city, where the streets were once more filled with a large variety of wonders…and piss.
Apparently the sewage system in this part of the city was less than adequate and so began an adult game of “The Floor is Lava”.
The streets were packed full with humanity and beer vendors and as we made our way through the crowds, Flo and I were regaled by a man who offered us a 50% discount if we bought eight beers from him. Filled with glee at our luck we attempted to get sixteen to double the percentage but to no avail. As we continued on to find the girls and Joshy we found them off the street and looking daggers at us.
“Where were you? We basically almost robbed just now!” came a chorus from both Sara and Cat’s mouth as one.
Flo and I stood like deers’ caught in headlights, holding up our arms full of beer as an answer.
Apparently a group of men had surrounded our fair maidens and got up real close and personal near their belongings while chatting them up and ignoring body boundaries. Cat said she felt some of them pawing at their bags while they spoke and took that as their cue to make a run for it and break free. While Flo and I were blithely huddled over the bargain we had just made. Mere metres away.
Whoops.
As Flo and I took the lead in front of the group to prevent another incident, he was suddenly enveloped in the arms of a beautiful muscular hunk and passionately swept off his feet in a style that would have made a seasoned erotica writer blush.
A few friends of the hunk introduced themselves to me as we politely ignored the grope fest adjacent to us (I really hoped Flo wasn’t getting mugged and I had misread the situation).
We stood in awkward silence for a bit waiting for it to be over before Cat and Sara pulled me back and told me “Brad-Brad, you have to remove your mask. Guys can’t kiss you with that poking them in the eye.”
I responded as I removed it, “Guys I don’t think that’s the cause of me not getting kissed right now-”
Spoiler alert; it was.
As we continued our journey I was pleasantly surprised to run into our fey friends again, Manu and Ally. We walked as a group, linking arms and skipping through the yellow-stained brick roads into the parades and promising night.
The crowd was a surging sea of bodies and more than once we were broken up into smaller factions, playing a game of musical friendship chairs. It became a game to see if we could manage to not lose each other completely. A fitting metaphor for making friends past university.
Luckily during our progression through the streets, we had come across a merchant of the massive fans, and thus we created our own giant fan club. So if we ever truly lost sight of each other and wanted to find out where the rest of our bosom buddies were, we would create a rackety clacket of “Thworp thworp Thworp” into the night sky, scaring any passersby and delighting each other with what seemed to be hilarious antics.
As we progressed through the ever-shifting crowd we came to an open area with the group ahead of Ally and I. Suddenly the theme song for Dirty Dancing came overhead from a loudspeaker. Ally grinned at me with a mischievous look before taking a few steps back and assuming the Baby-run-up-pose.
Uh oh. I was expected to pull a Swayze.
It’s okay; I’d been in a dance studio for many years, I had lifted many a woman (and man) in my time and I was wearing a Tutu and had plenty of beer in my system. All the requirements for a perfectly dirty lift were there.
He galloped like a graceful baby zebra towards my waiting arms and quivering legs. As he leapt through the air with the poise of a swan in flight I managed to somehow place my hands perfectly on his hips and lift him high. Success!
Until I looked up and saw that while I had indeed placed my one palm on his hip bone, the other had a dirtier dancing move in mind and had gone for his boys. His melon fruit. His loin jewels. His baby batter factories.
I had a firm grip on his balls.
I lowered him in haste, full of apologies and barely held back hilarity. He retreated to a nearby corner, bent over but still managing a Colgate-white smile at me through a teary film of pain.
At least our comrades ahead of us who saw the whole thing were having a good laugh out of it. I did think I owed Ally a drink now though.
As we came to where there was apparently the main source of music, Sara and I felt the intense urge to urinate, which caused me to feel sympathy pangs for her as the female bathroom situation seemed even direr than the previous days one. But I was about to learn just how crafty a Sara with a plan could be.
She followed me over to the more private tree riddled area where I was to drain the snake and stood next time in a similar wide-leg stance. I’ll always remember that as the moment I discovered the device called a “She-wee” and its function. Long story short; the ability to stand and comfortably pee anywhere is no longer an ability belonging exclusively to the realm of men. It was a lovely bonding experience for the two of us.
As we returned to the boys plus Cat, we found them huddled in a guilty-looking little group.
“Hey guys, can we join the circle jerk?” I asked as we merged with them, only to see them passing around delicately fuchsia-flushed happy powder. There wasn’t much left of the euphoria vitamins, but Sara and I had a little taste as well. A horrible little taste.
The amount was so little that I don’t believe it had any effects at all. But we did have a really fun time dancing and singing loudly along to High School Musical tracks, breaking down the dance floor again, twerking in unison and laughing along together- Oh wait.
An hour or so later we decided to call it quits and all head back to the apartment. It was a train ride home rich in Tutus, pull up competitions between the boys and general revelry that was ill-befitting a public transport system.
We arrived in a giddy mood, deciding that tea, coffee and some more dancing was on the cards.
As the night progressed I saw Manu and Flo were down to getting cosy together on the couches awhile everyone seemed to be winding down and feeling the effects of a long day. I started to collect all my fans and glitter to head back home. Ally said he was also looking to head back and would walk with me out. Manu seemed very comfortable where he was and made no such moves.
As Ally and I walked out into the clear night sky and walked a bit under the stars together, he asked if I wanted to come stay over at his that night – I guess my ball-handling skills are decent enough to warrant a second – less-crushing – chance.
I looked into his big beautiful brown eyes and sparkling white teeth and declined, excusing the long day and too many drinks, but I really did appreciate the offer…maybe another time.
As his uber arrived and we kissed goodbye, I wondered why I hadn’t given him the full truth;
I was tired indeed, but I was also hungry as fuck and I had half an hour until Mcdonalds closed. Sorry Ally, but the only D I was cruising for that night was a MacD.
