This is a throwback to when I used to live in a South American Capital.
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Somehow, I’ve ended up in one of the weirdest parties I’ve ever been to. We’re on the border to the ghetto Which, here, means, it’s already really dangerous. The venue is the bottom floor of a corner building that should have been a bistro but has somehow been turned into a liveable flat with the café room serving as a living room and now doubling as the dance floor for the house party. My friends had advertised this to me as a top DJ’s private home party but they’re also new in town and have also been fooled by the weird guys who’ve shown us the way here. On top of it all, it’s a costume party and it’s hard to tell what kind of people really are attending because everybody’s disguised to varying degrees – one guy has an elaborate bender costume, some guy just dyed his hair red, and some chick has angel wings. Me, I’m just wearing a massive fake moustache that covers my mouth to the point I can’t even drink without a straw.