#10 - "Santa Elena Discoteca!"
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Instructions: 1. Find the blog entry that matches your postcard´s title. 2. Click on the "Comments" link beneath that entry. 3. In the form of a comment, type in (verbatim, please) the entire postcard I sent you. The more of you that follow these instructions (everyone, I hope), the more complete this journal becomes. Please take five minutes and add your entry. Trust me, the overall read will be some Moby Dick meets Hamlet-type shit. Thanks heaps, Dan
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We'd survived the waterfall. We'd survived the black market money exchange. It was Saturday night. Pockets flush with cash. Tim to fucking dance. Our guide picked us up at the hostel, wife and sister-in-law in tow. First stop was a super divey dance club. The mens' urinal consisted of a rusty trough that drained into a bucket. Gross. No surprise the joint was completely empty. Next we went to a rock and roll bar that played vintage American its (ie. Rock Around the Clock) sung in Spanish. Weird but funny. A bunch of locals went nuts about my height. Too bad they were dudes. Last stop of the night was a giant outdoor party that appeared to take place at a giant roller rink. They had a booty shake competition between two sexy women. The winner refused a giant pile of cash to take her top off. At the end of the night, our guide offered his sister-in-law to me or another guy in our crew. Sad. I went to my room and jerked off instead.
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