NYC to BA, Take III: Por fin!!

I get to the airport with my new traveling buddy, Maria, 3 hours before departure. I don´t have a seat and the flight is overbooked. I am dismal. Perhaps I was not meant to be there.

I check in. I ask about the upgrade to business class. I{m offering to pay. Nothing. Seat assignment at the gate.

They board practically everyone, and it{s me and many people I recognize from Friday night, waiting rather impatiently. The bitchy flight attendant says nothing other than "we{re trying to get you a seat" rather nastily, and can{t seem to understand why we're pissed off. She retors, after a couple or requests for more info, "I do this every day, if you'd all just give me a minute!!" While we're all waiting for seats, some woman is complaining that she can't get the vegetarian meal she requested. Sorry honey, take a number.

Anyway, my stomach starts turning, but a coupl eof minutes later, I'm back on business class. YIPPEE!!

And thank god. It's a 10.5 hour flight, leaving at 10 pm. And we were delayed an extra hour and a half getting out, because it had been raining earlier that day. So it was essentially a 12 hour flight. I had a liquid dinner ("would you like the wine glass or the large glass of pot?" he says. As if there was any question. I had to SLEEP!)

I put on my BOSE noise-cancelling headset, curled up into the same position I normally sleep in, one knee up to my chest, one stretched out, and closed my eyes (in case you were wondering, they do indeed cancel noise. I swear, there was some argentinan dude on my right who did not stop talking the entire trip.)

I remember stretching my legs and feet a few times (they swell when I fly), repositioned my body and the headset, now instead of being hooked into my ipod, is now just tuning out the loquacious argentine.

I wake up to a screaming baby, and look at my watch: 8:30 am. EIGHT FUCKING THIRTY!! I don't even sleep that long in my own bed. That made all the difference in the world.

BA was a comfy 75 degrees today, sunny but not too hot. It's a national holiday, so I was advised by Jorge (sitting next to me on the plane) to visit San Telmo, the antiques district. I figured out the subway (called Subte) pretty easily, and took a ride there. It's cute. Nothing too interesting. The only quote I remember from Frasier was "I am not one for whom antique is a verb." I feel the same. But really, I was just happy to be parading around the city, linen skirt blowing in the gentle breeze, shoulders being kissed by the sunlight. It's been too long.

I tried to go to the Parilla (Grill restaurant) Jorge recommended to me, but there was a couple of impediments:
(a) Packed.
(b) It seems that it was a "2 or more person" thing.
(c) ORGAN MEATS. They don't mess around. I saw sweetbreads, morcilla (blood sausage), and other entrails. Bah. Must do that with Rik, who'll eat pretty much anything.

I wound up at a small cafe on the edge of San Telmo, nothing special. I had a veal cutlet with fries, a double cafe cortado, a bottle of mineral water. About $6. Ridiculous.

I came back to find Calle Florida, which evidently is the place to get leather. It's fine. It's pretty much a large pedestrian mall with lots of stores, one leather purveyor after another. It was pretty much like the Florence leather market, though much cheaper. I'm not saying leather pants are not in the cards, but I haven't yet committed.

I also made it to Galeria Florida, one of a number of Buenos Aires malls. Packed. Nice enough. Kept me busy. I got to walk. That's all I was really after today anyway.

One thing that's troubling me is the friggin' keys here. They're these old school skeleton keys. There's one for the front door (to get in AND get out), there's one for the room. I can't seem to get them to work without hurting myself. And when I was in a restaurant today, I locked myself in a hot bathroom for a while. No joke.

It's nearing 9 pm, so I think I'll head out for dinner and call it a night. I didn't pass out, get sick, or get lost. I call today a win.