I am at the eye doctors. This is the biggest eye doctor center in Buenos Aires. My eyes have been a big complaint for the last year. I feel like an old lady, like a female Mr. Magoo. I can't see the men in the milongas. I can't read. I hate those stupid reading glasses. I hate not being able to see my cell phone to text message.
Finally I find lenses that work for me. Dr. Eye is 90 years old. Can you believe it? He is sort of grumpy but at 90 I guess you deserve to be. The lenses are from France. Not expensive, and not custom made. Once again, the Americans don't know everything. What a surprise. I feel like an idiot insisting I have to custom made toric multifocal lenses. That is what Dr. Arrogant Eye at Costco in San Leandro said. And he should know...the contact lens companies pay him to tell us that. Dr. Grumpy harrumphed at that when I told him.
I am waiting to pay for my lenses. Suzanna the woman helping me is excited that I know her brother, a retired doctor who dances tango. She is telling everyone in the cashier area. There is one other patient waiting besides me. A rather large aggressive Argentine woman. She has a unique purse. I tell her that I like it. I notice that her eyes begin to shine.
She turns to me and asks me in Spanish "Where are you from?" Sometimes I am sarcastic and I say the moon. I don't mind people asking me, I just mind it being blurt out at me as the first question. "Vivo aca, pero soy de California, Estados Unidos." (I live here, but I am from the US) I tell her. Her eyes begin to turn yellow, and I detect fangs beginning to grow in her mouth, her nails are growing.
"Do you live in Puerto Madero?" She asks me. "No, I live in Palermo." I tell her. "Why not, Puerto Madero? It is lovely there." I tell her that to me Puerto Madero is like living in the U.S. The fangs begin to lengthen and her nails start to look like claws. "You can rent a lovely apartment in Puerto Madero with a beautiful view." She is getting on my nerves. I tell her I am not interested in renting an apartment in Puerto Madero. " I live here permanently. I am a resident." She does not hear me. She is too busy calculating her next move.
By now she is a full blown blood sucker. Her fangs are in full view and her nails are long claws waiting to grab me. "The Recoleta is nice." she informs me. "It is boring". I tell her. I roll my eyes at the cashiers. They smile. "But the Recoleta is so beautiful." She pushes. "I like Palermo." I tell her once again. "I live in Recoleta." she tells me. "I live in Palermo." I tell her back.
She realizes that her tact is not working so she switches gears. "You like tango?" I roll my eyes again. She never stops. "I can get you tickets for Madera tango." I tell her that I am not interested in tourist shows of tango. "Ah...you like tango folklorico...tango de nuestro" Tango Folklorico? What the hell is she talking about? "No, " I tell her, "I like salon tango. I dance tango. I do not like tango fantasia, tango ballet. Tango salon."
Not to be deterred she answers, "I am in tourism, what can I help you with?" "So am I." I tell her. She looks at me like I am crazy. "Where? What?" I dig into my purse and bring out a card. "I have an apartment where I rent out two rooms to people who come to dance tango. I help them with everything, classes, shoes, whatever, plastic surgery, laser teeth whitening." I chatter on. The yellow in her eyes begins to fade. "You live HERE?" she asks.
"Yes," I tell her, thinking what an idiot she is. Her fangs begin to recede and her claws start to turn back into normal hands. "Then we must have a coffee sometime." She turns to the cashiers who have been entertained the last 5 minutes by this little repartee. "You would not believe the rents in Puerto Madero" she tells them. "Only the tourists would pay them." She shoves her things into her purse, "I'll call you." she says as she hurries away. "I sure hope not." I think.