Would you like some coffee with your booze, ma’am?

Maybe a little.

I awoke this morning itching to write and wondered, what next of the myriad of things shall I unleash into the world wide web?  I scrolled through my mental list, but ultimately, fell uninspired by what was there.  I proceeded to focus energy into packing up for mi barrio nuevo and watch Jobs on Netflix.  (What a d-bag, by the way.) 

I had 2 hours to get from my old Airbnb to the next one which was only a 35 min metro journey, so I planned to have an alcoholic coffee at the nearby, Cafelito, to help calm my nerves.  Moving is always stressful and wheeling 50lbs of shit around any city is no picnic.  Booze me.

Cafelito became a frequented destination of choice during my month in Lavapies initially out of convenience.  I kept going back for quality.  I had yet to try their boozy coffees and it sounded like the best idea for my Lavapies send-off.  The Cafetoño was a delicious concoction of espresso, honey, spices and (perhaps half) crema de orujo.  It made me feel nice.  The one dude from the café recognized me (after the 6 or so times I’d been there) as I paid and offered a rewards card with a fresh stamp.  I laughed and, in terrible Spanish, thanked him and said I was moving to Prosperidad… *awkward silence* …but maybe I’ll come back after a while?  Note to self; promptly ask the next café if they have a rewards program.

I left with an hour to kill until my meetup and headed for the metro.  Google mapped out a few different routes and I elected the #3 towards Legazpi to transfer to the #6.  30+ mins later a nice man offered to help wheel my baggage off the train and we surfaced into daylight outside of the metro.  I soon realized I took the #6 in the wrong direction.

Yes, this is real life.  The one where I miss the last steps of staircases, travel in the wrong direction for 30 mins, and leave my purse in motherfucking Whitehouse, TN unnoticed until 4 hours away in Memphis.  Oh, y’all don’t know that story…

So, the nice man helped wheel my luggage back down into the depths of wherever the fuck we were and then suggested exchanging numbers in case I needed anything later.  (Kudos on that smooth play.)  He already knew this damsel is in constant distress. *phone ringing*  Yes, kind sir, will you please help me down this staircase?   

45 minutes later I arrived at my destination grateful for finding another sympathetic Airbnb host.  I am not blaming the coffee.  I am simply, Kat.
Last fun thing to note!  Tomorrow is the nice man’s birthday and he said he doesn’t know anyone here, so we are planning to meet up for drinks.  Are you meddling again, Carl Jung?