The stinky five

My two weeks are almost up and I figure that means it's time to party. I invited a bunch of people from the school to go dancing, but no one showed. More cuba libres for me? After an accidental encounter with the half-naked tour guy and some chica in my sister's room at the hostel, I headed to Gringolandia with Melissa's flatmate and her amie francaise.

We got to the Cuban restaurant where a group of other students from the school had eaten dinner. The bouncer asked for $5 in cover. In New York City, that'd be a steal; in Quito, it's highway robbery. We hemmed and hawed until he let me in to see if the folks were even in there. They were, but we still debated. My suggestion to bargain (thank you, Otovalo!) was overruled when he said a drink was included in the cover.

Out of spite, I took the stinky backup $5 out of my left shoe to give to him. The girls thought that was awesomely passive-aggressive. That is, until poor Leslie got it back as change for her $10 ...

We drank mohitos and cuba libres and danced freestyle salsa. Mine was more freestyle than the others', but it was a rockin' good time--even though a snobby chica from the school asked in a snobby chica voice, "Have you ever even danced salsa before?" Where's a stinky five when you need it???