After being mugged (the most recent time), I was confined to my swanky hotel room in Buenos Aires, whilst I waited for my emergency credit card to arrive. I was reluctant to leave the hotel and venture out into the dangerous external world because:
1. After being robbed three times on this trip I felt like everyone wanted to steal from me. "Everyone is guilty until proven innocent", being my new motto.
2. I was reluctant to spend the money that the Ukrainian mafia had lent me in case I needed it at a later date.
So, I became like a Persian house cat, the confinement of the four walls, my Universe, the man who brought me food, the object of my affection and the toilet, my giant litter tray. Perhaps house cats, like me actually make a conscious decision to stay indoors, afraid that some armed muggers may be out there just waiting to steal their jingly belled collar. ´No one is getting my jingly belled collar,´ I thought as I faced yet another night in watching "E" T.V ("E" for Entertainment), which was the only T.V channel available in English.
Mine, mine, mine.
"E" T.V is an American channel presented by orange, anorexic hosts with hungry eyes, who excitedly wave their stick arms around as they discuss topics close to my heart such as which celebrity has the worst cellulite, who is cheating on whom and which model turned actress was recently seen falling out of an L.A nightclub with cocaine on her nose. I love it. I was also glued to the count down of the "100 Best and worst celebrity beach bodies".
Occasionally, on this channel, movies would be shown with story lines based around some kind of parent and child body swop. The start of the story would usually begin in a Chinese restaurant or involve something to do with China and an elaborate curse resulting in the body swop. Typically, in such a film, the parent (now the teenager) goes to high school (in the teenagers body) and makes a total tit of him or herself ruining the only chance the teenager ever had of getting some action. In turn, the teenager attends a very important deal clinching business meeting in the parents body and fucks that up. In the end, however, the story manages to once again involve something to do with China and the body swop is reversed, but not until a huge improvement has developed in the parent, child relationship resulting in the growth of a more meaningful bond between the two.
This led me to imagine what might happen if my mother and I were to experience such a swop. She would spend hours in a hotel room in Buenos Aires, watching "E" T.V, her mind blank for the eight hours a day she was awake, a vacant stare spread across her young, beautiful face, occasional thoughts running through her head such as "Just two more hours of "E" T.V and then bed. Well, maybe three more."
It was at this point, I realised that due to lack of external stimuli, my level of intellect was actually regressing and that pretty soon, I would have the mental ability of an egg. I worried that if I were to take an I.Q test, I would likely score a four, which I would read as a three and be happy with.
The number 3 and my I.Q score.
Therefore, I decided to leave the safe haven that was my lovely hotel room and venture out into the mad and bad city to buy a book, confident, perhaps foolishly that I still had the ability to read. Before I left, I spent about twenty minutes strategically hiding money in different places around my body. "Take that asshole mugger!" I thought as I placed a neatly folded note inside my secret pocket, "Screw you baddies", another one in my sock. Off I went, into Buenos Aires city, a walking advent calendar, a surprise behind every pocket. Although, I didn´t get mugged again and consider just leaving the safety of my hotel to be enough of an achievement, I don´t think I would call the excursion a roaring success. I....
Walked to find a book shop.
Got lost.
Found book shop, was closed.
Walked to cinema.
Was hour and a half early for film, left cinema.
Went to a cafe for an hour and a half and imagined what kind of place the world would be if humans were half machine (influenced by Science Fiction book am reading).
Went back to cinema.
Went into film.
Film was in French with Spanish subtitles.
Left without watching film.
I went back to the safety of my hotel room, turned on "E" T.V, watched the comforting sight of a fat Jack Nicholson (worst beach body contender) belly flopping off a yacht in the South of France, man boobs flapping and sagging to each side. "I´m home", I thought as I curled up into a ball, placed my head on my tail and purred loudly.
Jack, a contender but to me, always a winner.
Finally, after six nights in the hotel, my credit card arrived! "Next stop Uruguay!" I told the T.V. On my last night in Buenos Aires I decided to venture into the hotel lobby bar to eat. I brought my book with me in the hope that it would act as a deterrent in case anyone wanted to talk to me, people often want to talk to me. I didn´t yet feel that I wanted to interact with three dimensional people, my T.V beach body friends, that was one thing, but REAL people? No way! And what if they had cellulite?!
Unfortunately, the book had the opposite of its intended purpose and actually attracted rather than repelled attention. "Hi, what book are you reading?", a voice came from beside me. "Drats" I thought and cursed my friendly demeanour and unstoppable charm, which oozes form every pore of my body. The voice behind me belonged to a man called Richard, an airline pilot for Qantas whom I mentally placed somewhere in a beach body category between a pudgy Leonardo DiCaprio and an unkempt Rod Stewart. "My name is Niamh and I have been brainwashed by "E" T.V," I thought.
Richard and I exchanged general chit chat for a few minutes before I realised that I had an overwhelming urge to talk about my muggings. As soon as I got the chance, off I entered into a monologue about everything bad that had happened to me on this trip, "I was mugged here, there, everywhere!" I told him. I saw Richards face change from a calm expression to one of shock. He released sympathetic "oohs" and "ahhs" every now and again, which I appreciated. After a while, I became acutely aware that I was perhaps talking too much, so I apologised and said "sorry, you are the first real person I´ve spoken to since last week". "Real person?" I thought, that was a weird thing to say. I became instantly worried that my choice of words made it sound like I had been having doll tea parties in my hotel room all week, the marionette doll, the clown and me, seated in a circle, me discussing the inevitable downfall of Lyndsay Lohan as they gazed mutely at the floor, heads lolled to one side. "Scabies", the clown, might have a patch over one eye from when a previous discussion over whether dwarfs and midgits are the same thing got out of hand and I had to get violent with him. "Crazy Scabies," I thought, "so argumentative" and then remembered that he wasn´t real.
"Scabies"...he doesn´t exist.
Richard, however seemed to understand the feeling of isolation that can occur after being robbed abroad and told me about the time he was "almost" mugged in Thailand. "´Almost´ never won the race, Dick," I thought, but appreciated his attempt to identify with me, which I also interpreted as an act of mild flirtation. The art of exaggeration or indeed lying to get someone to like you is all to familiar to me. "What´s that you say handsome man? You hate celebrities? me too! They are just sooooo superficial!" I might announce as I sit on my copy of heat magazine.
I finished eating and decided to retire to my room, I bid my new friend goodbye but not before he invited me to a "free drink, pilots cocktail party" later that evening. Now, any one of those five words used in isolation would be enough to guarantee my appearance later, let alone such a fantastic combination. "You´ll have to pretend to be crew," he told me. "Oh, I´ll try!" I replied.
Step into my office.
Cut to a few hours later, I was seated in the hotel bar surrounded by an audience of pilots as I sipped on my red wine (free for us Qantas crew) and told my travel stories. It of course gradually became obvious that I did not actually work for Qantas but no one seemed to care. There was also an array of American Airline pilots at the cocktail party, one of whom (Rob) was particularily interested in my tales. He listened intently and asked lots of questions about my experiences over the last five months in South America. I heard him say to other pilots in his American accent, "Man, you´ve gotta meet Eve, she has done everything, climbed volcanoes, jumped off cliffs, went sand surfing in the desert!" Rob made this Eve character sound so purposeful and fulfilled. ´I´d like to meet her´, I thought.
As the night progressed, more and more pilots surrounded me as I told my stories. I was respectful and well behaved, not at all like my usual self. "Are they all like you in Ireland, Eve?" one asked. I didn´t tell them my name was Eve, it just stuck and I kind of liked it. I heard Rob tell my mugging story to the hotel manager, but he added his own twist, "Eve managed to keep one of her bags, because she´s so smart".
After a few hours, I decided to call it a night. I bid farewell to my work colleagues and went to leave. Richard, touched my arm meaningfully and told me that I needed to stay out, relax and "get drunk". I don´t think anyone has ever before told me that I needed to "get drunk", I usually have that pretty much covered of my own accord. I was however, conscious of the fact that if I stayed out with them that before I knew it, it would be 7am, I would be very drunk indeed, dancing on some bar somewhere and would miss my 8am boat to Uruguay the next morning, so I went to bed. The next day, I made the boat and headed to Uruguay for a whole new adventure where a real beach with real people and hopefully less TV awaited me.
