Young Writers Society

Walking up to the Hilton with ripped stockings, Queen of Hearts costume, and face make up smeared at 6:30am, I experienced my first walk of shame.

“Have a good night!?” said the shuttle driver of the hotel.

I smiled said yeah with a slight wave. Next the doorman’s eyes were big as if I were a ghost as I walk in through the lobby. Everyone knew, and my face was so red I felt it getting hotter and hotter until I made it around the corner to the elevator. When I got to my room, I got out of my outfit, washed my face and realized that was a once in a life time Halloween night. I have never left the country until now and what are the chances that it lands during Halloween and clubs don’t close until 6am.

Earlier that day I was at work teaching the new hires how to take they’re first few calls. That’s how I got out there, my company at the time while living in New York decided to sell our business contract to a different branch in El Salvador. Five whole weeks I would be staying at a Hilton in a country that was red flagged for Americans because of crime. I took it as a once in a lifetime opportunity, but was also scared out of my mind going with blonde hair and blue eyes. Anytime I would see someone or something sketchy I would think of my husband saying;

“Ever seen the movie ‘Taken’? If you get stolen baby I don’t have those skills and I cant save you!”

That phrase kept coming in my head when after work Roberto picked me up from the hotel and drove me to a bar called Amsterdam. It was a locked a bar with bars on its door and you couldn’t see in. We were there to buy drugs and have a beer before we met everyone at the club. This bar was out of a movie, you walked in and to the left you had a longer wooden bench with two rectangle tables and in front of you a bar. Where the bar ended and curved on the left there was a wooden spiral staircase leading you upstairs where you hear music. No real lights just a TV playing soccer in the corner and random bar neon lights that gave the room a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ feel to it. Roberto asked;

“How much you want, be careful because it’s cheaper I’ll get a lot more.”

“20 I guess.”

Roberto ordered in spanish along with two beers. I seen how the bartender snuck it in his hand with Roberto’s change. He flagged me along to follow him upstairs, we get up to the top and the whole room is wood with one giant flag of Bob Marley. Around five smaller tables all written on in marker and pen, and only one other group of two. I wasn’t sure if they were a couple, everyone there seemed to mind their own business. Roberto takes it out of his pocket and I have just as much cocaine if I spent 80-100bucks back home. It seemed so strange to me that this type of thing is normal here in a bar. When he was making the lines my stomach was getting more and more nervous. It happens every time before I do cocaine, the anticipation on top of nervousness of doing cocaine from Columbia. Me being the over thinker, I started to think should I just do a bump because it’s more pure, what if I have a heart attack or my nose bleeds while out tonight. Turns out it was the smoothest, non cut with nose burning chemicals, best drug I’ve ever snorted, and it made me feel amazing.

Half an hour goes by and we drive over to the club which is a block and a half away from my hotel. The bass of the music you could feel as you walked up to the club. So many people were dressed up. I was assuming I was getting compliments from strangers but didn’t speak a lick of spanish. We ran into Mario as we were getting a drink. Mario was a tall slim handsome gay man we worked with, and he already has a bottle of vodka and a case of beer ordered for a VIP booth. At that point Mario was like my new best friend, and we danced took shots and took pictures with other people in costumes. Already being drunk the club announces a costume contest. At first I was thinking no way in hell, I have already seen costumes that look like it took hours to put on! Mario and I danced and shoved our way to the DJ to enter the contest and he basically had to stay with me since no one else spoke spanish. Security took all the contestants outside the back door and were lined up in order which they would come on stage. People were smoking, making out, taking shots and talking in spanish. Mario helped translate for me when they told directions and eventually he could not follow anymore.

I was on a metal spiral staircase and in front of me was a midget clown with green striped suspender pants, wife beater tank, and painted face with red nose, and behind me was a girl painted in gold who has rigged 6 arms to her arms. When she raised her arms she looked like a hindu god. As we all got closer to the stage you could see they were bringing 6 people up at once, and one by one they had to dance or show off they’re outfit. There was also a stripper pole and the announcer was up on stage putting he mic up to your mouth. Whatever he was saying or asking these people I was nervous out of my mind. What would I say? Introduce myself? Say Hola? Just smile and wave? Before I knew it it was my turn to go talk to the announcer and show off my costume. After the announcer spoke in spanish on a microphone he put the mic to my face...

“No habla espanio.” I said and smiled.

“No habla espanio?” the announcer asked back

“Si!”

“NO HABLA ESPANIO!!!!!” he yelled and the whole crowd cheered and threw their arms in air. Music started playing and I walked with a spunk, hand on hip up to the pole. On the left side of the pole I put my right arm up on the pole and spun around the pole a few times with one leg out. When I landed I put my ass towards the crowd, bent over, and shook that booty like a stripper. I felt like a a foreign buzzed spun superstar! I stayed up there for a while as the crowd would vote for me, I made 7th place and kissed the crowd goodbye as they took me off stage. Off stage Mario was there waiting for me all smiles and said he didn’t think I was brave enough to do the contest. He never doubted me again. While pushing back to our booth strangers in the crowd would recognize me and yell ‘no habla espanio!’ It was my new name in the club.