We walked all the way down to Ipanema, passing a beautiful casino and that piqued my interest in that little experiment I was planning, you know the one about the Coriolis force and it’s affect on water flow in drains and toilets. You probably forgot about it but I didn’t. I figured that I should go in there sometime and test my luck but I can't take Miss Bubble Lips with me because she'll attract too much attention and I don’t need any unwanted eyes watching me. How do I get away without her thinking I am at a terma with Travelsrr or Evil Twin? I’ll come up with some stupid excuse that will get me away long enough to do what needs to be done.
I'm supremely confident because I’ve been watching Breaking Vegas on the History Channel and by now I know all the in's and outs of casinos and how their surveillance systems work. With a little preliminary surveillance work on my part, I should be able to get in, conduct my experiment and get out without them even knowing what I was up to. Perhaps that little experiment will work with some diligent planning, what the fuck physics is physics or is it physics are physics? I think physics is like that word “data” that always messes me up. Regardless of which it is I know I'm on the right track. For some unknown reason, the Princess Copacabana won't give me a stopper for my sink so I can’t conduct the experiment in the privacy of my room. What the fuck do they think; I'm going to swallow the damn thing? What the hell, from what I've seen on Breaking Vegas the most successful people at beating the casinos are scientists and MIT students and since I watch a lot of the Discovery Channel I'm almost one of them too. Now, if I can only prepare a foolproof plan, success will be mine.
Ipanema is a gorgeous beach and I got Miss Bubble Lips to promise that we would come back there tomorrow because I didn't have my camera with me today and I wanted to get some record shots of both Ipanema and Leblon. We walked around the town finally ending up at a flea market in a large square. There were hundreds of booths selling the most unimaginable stuff. After about 15 minutes of haggling with one of the merchants I was able to buy six coasters at a very reasonable cost. Not five minutes later, we passed another booth that had the same coasters at half the price I had already paid. Must be losing my negotiating skills, either that or these Brazilians are a hell of a lot smarter than I am. Perhaps it's a little of both. We hailed a taxi, went to Kilogram for lunch then back to the room for an "afternoon delight." Oh God, she is so comfortable and sexy!
We woke up in each others arms after a short nap and that’s when I decided to ask what her to explain that phrase “nao spankie mi, spankie mi.” Apparently its slang which loosely translated means “Don’t fight with me but spank me.” Whatever it meant it got me laid last night and I was thankful for that. I got out of bed and grabbed my medications and Miss Bubble Lips asked what else is in my medical kit. I showed her the various pills but she focused in on some foil packets. “What are these,” she asks. “Crest Whiten Strips, would you like to try them?” She agreed, I told her to sit down while I grabbed two packets, one for the upper teeth and one for the lower and that’s when I found out how large Miss Muppet Mouth’s mouth really is. I don’t know if you have ever used them but one set is always sufficient to cover the teeth. Not so with Miss Muppet Mouth, I applied the upper strip but noticed something wrong, it only covered half her teeth. To shorten a long story let me just say that it took two complete sets of strips to cover her teeth. That’s one big mouth, isn’t it?
I empty the pockets of my bathing suit, take out my knife which I always carry and find that my money is soaking wet. I have this little trick to dry money, just put the bills in the microwave for about 25 seconds and it’s completely dry. I spread the bills all around the inside of the microwave, pushed the button and waited for them to dry. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to consider one important difference between our paper money and Brazil’s. Theirs has plastic in some of the notes. Since I prefer the R$10 note a significant problem unexpectedly arose. The newer R$10 notes have a clear plastic medallion imbedded in the note and it melts quickly. Too fucking quickly if you ask me! All my fucking paper money was fused together in one large sheet. Luckily, I was able to separate some of them but overall I lost R$50. A couple of the bills weren’t too badly melted and I figured I could pass them off on some unsuspecting Brazilian.
For some strange reason we started talking about the difference in races and I asked her which she preferred: black man or white men. She then went on to a long discourse about how where she was from was mostly black and that she always expected to marry a black man till she met me. All of a sudden she absolutely loves white men and now wants my baby. Unfortunately I have this effect on women, I don't know why or how but it somehow happens. They can be a hardcore slut but as soon as they meet me they become very maternal; don’t ask me how or why just believe me when I say it happens. If you don’t believe me just ask Sandman, he can tell you how I fucked up Will Smith within a matter of hours. Fawn now wants a little toe-headed black baby with me but I don't know about Lurch. Since she couldn't speak much English we never touched on that topic. We actually never got much past the “pousetta-bunda” stage.
Where was I? Oh yeah, talking about race relations in Brazil. All of a sudden Miss Bubble Lips asks me why I prefer black women. Since she was in "Boobs" getting a burger when I explained about Seabird I repeated the story to her and then she went one step further by asking, "When was the first time you had sex with a black woman?" Then I fondly thought back to only a little over two years ago when I was returning from Europe through London. I just flown in from Amsterdam, changed planes and as I was sitting in my seat I saw a young couple approach, and a gorgeous black woman asks the man she's with, "Where is my seat?"
He looks at her ticket and says its 28 B. Holy shit, I'm sitting in 28 A, and this gorgeous cinnamon skinned woman is going to be seated right next to me, I couldn't believe my luck. Then I thought back to the only time I asked to be seated next to a single woman and the ticket agent said she would arrange it for me. She must have had a great sense of humor because when I reached my seat there sitting next to me was a Nun. Bet she laughed all day; I didn’t. Where was I? Oh yeah, I promptly sit up straight and pull in my gut trying to look as attractive as possible and pop a certs in my mouth. She sits down next to me and her boyfriend or husband sits next to her in 28 C.
She immediately starts talking to me not paying any attention to him at all. I figured that he must've fucked up like I usually do and I think, what the hell I got the pleasure of a company at his expense. After the plane takes off he gets up and moves away to an empty row to stretch out. After a few minutes I reluctantly suggest that she might want to join him. "But why, I just met him on the plane," was her wonderful reply. "Stay put, I'll order us some wine," I suggested then frantically pushed the flight attendants button. Miraculously two bottles of Chardonnay appeared within a minute as we were headed to Newark, New Jersey and a wonderful encounter.
She was West African; having lived in the United States for the past eight years, was 28 years old and built like Beyoncé with exactly the same skin color. She asked me where I'd been and I mentioned Amsterdam among other cities. She asked me if I'd been to the red light district. Do I lie to her and tell her no or tell her the horrible truth? Oddly, I chose the truth. She then continued the questioning by asking me how many girls I was with. "One," I honestly replied. "Only one, why,” she asked inquisitively.
And that's when I went into a long and torturous explanation of the various women I saw sitting in the storefront Windows till I finally chose one because she reminded me of my former girlfriend who lived with me for four years. Physically they looked a lot alike both being 6 feet tall, about 30 years old, blonde and absolutely gorgeous. The girl in the window was an absolute dead ringer for her except that this girl had slightly bigger to tits. That's why I chose her because she reminded me of somebody else, no other reason whatsoever. I know it’s a truly shallow reason, but what the fuck I’m a guy and we usually think and feel in shallow ways, at least that what women always tell me.
Then she asks, "Was she good?" Well at first she was but then as money changed hands she was all business getting undressed without saying a word or looking at me, and putting on my raincoat without any affection or communication whatsoever. This girl got a sorry look on her face and seemed to actually feel for me. When I couldn't get too excited I asked the prostitute if I could touch her breasts just to add a little excitement to an otherwise sterile clinical sexual experience. "Did she let you?" She asked, practically on the edge of her seat anticipating my answer.
Unfortunately, that's when I noticed she wasn't the only one anxious to hear my reply. Three men were seated ahead of us and each had reclined his chair as far as possible and they were leaning back hard against their seats to get a few more precious centimeters closer to the conversation. The bitch behind us was leaning forward right behind my seat and I could hear her breathing. Okay, so now I have a fucking audience and she’s pushing for an answer again,’ Did she let you touch them?” I whispered, “Yes,” and I heard a grasp behind me. “Well, then what happened?” I explained that when I touched them they were hard as a rock and that really turned me off. She gave me a pitiful look and said one word, "silicone." "Yup," was my stupid reply then she said something I never expected or dreamed of. "Do they feel like these," she said as she turned to face me squaring her shoulders and pushing out her chest. "You want me to touch them?" I said stunned. "Yes," was all she said. The guys in row 27 were going crazy!
Before I go any further I have to describe this gorgeous African princess. She looks a little like Sophia Loren with tits almost as big. I would say she was either a very full C cup or a small D cup so you can imagine the look on my face when she asked me to touch them. She was wearing a thin red sweater that was low-cut and I was sure she had a bustier on to keep them up and perky looking. I put out both hands palms first like a teenager touching them for the very first time and what I felt wasn't what I expected it all. First of all, she wasn't wearing a bustier or bra at all, secondly they were absolutely real and firm, and then I felt her perfect nipples harden against the palms of my hands. I was in heaven as were the guys in the seats ahead of us. The bitch behind us was just disgusted. Fuck her, I thought.
Then she said the strangest thing. I say strange because I'd never kissed a woman up to this point without asking her first if I could. Well, she said, "Can I kiss you?" I just nodded and she gave me one of those long wet lingering kisses that we all dream about. The group in row 27 is going ape shit; I could hear them discussing us. "She's a porn star, no she's a hooker, no it's all a setup," were their various explanations but I can only tell you they were wrong, wrong, wrong! The only thing I heard from a lady behind us was, "Oh my God!" Guess she's not much of a conversationalist, huh? "Stewardess, two more bottles of wine, quickly."
As we finished the wine she again turned towards me and said, "Do you want to see them?" There was more frantic movement in the seats ahead. Holy shit! Recently people had been saying that flying was get worse, but as far as I was concerned it was getting better minute by precious minute. She lifted her sweater and there were two of the most glorious breasts I have ever seen or dreamed of for that matter. Once again I reached out palms first and gently caressed each. The bitch behind us was pressing against my seat with her foot in an effort to widen the crack between the seats so she could get a better look; it was almost like being in a rocking chair.
She must be one of those fucking perverts who enjoy watching. “Do you want to kiss them,” she whispered. “Can I,” was all I could manage to say as she cupped both breasts in her hands for me to kiss. I was drooling and as I kissed her right nipple it suddenly became extremely hard and erect. That wasn’t the only thing that was hard and erect in rows 27 & 28. I almost felt sorry for those guys but that sympathy quickly passed as I directed my attention elsewhere then gently and passionately licked each nipple.
The stewardess came over as she pulled down her sweater and asked if we would like more wine. “About six more bottles,” was my juvenile reply. A minute later half a dozen bottles were delivered with a smile and wink from the stewardess. Flying getting great again, isn’t it? We talked some more and ate our dinner, well, we didn’t actually eat much but rather just picked over the meal. Fuck, I never miss a meal and my trays going back hardly even touched. She had this wondrous affect on me; all I needed when I was around her was her touch and attention, and wine, of course.
After dinner she wanted to make out and who was I to argue with her. Slowly her hand slid inside my shirt and she started to gently rub my nipples in a very stimulating way. Then her hand went down to my belt buckle and slowly unfastened it; reaching in when it was undone searching for me. Holy shit, I’m going to come in my pants any second but she suddenly stops to get a blanket. Good idea I think, why give everyone a show. Then she raises the armrest and puts her head in my lap and innocently covers herself with the blanket. This trip is getting better by the minute!
She asks me to rise up off the seat so she could pull my pants down a little and then she puts me in her mouth. “Oh my God,” is all I can say and, unfortunately I said it somewhat loudly. Heads all of a sudden turn around and the bitch behind me is breathing heavily at the crack between the seats. I grab the back of her head signaling her to stop moving up and down because we now have an audience of about twenty people suddenly concerned with what’s going on in row 28. She goes all the way down on me, in essence deep throating me and remains still for about three minutes. Well, she wasn’t exactly still because her tongue was flicking up and down gently rubbing my shaft in a wonderful rhythmic motion. The stewardess walks by and gives me a knowing smile; meanwhile, I just want to somehow become invisible. I was just thankful that she didn’t stop and ask us if we wanted anymore wine. How do I get in these situations? Then things got worse, how you might imagine, well, just read on.
She took me out of her mouth and rose up to look around and, sure enough the audience had grown to about thirty very interested passengers. She smiled at them then told me that she would love to suck my cock but that I had to move up and down, that way her head would remain stationary so as not to attract attention. Sounded like the perfectly logical solution to me. This is where things started to go south quickly. Apparently my seat creaked rather loudly as I moved up and down and this only brought more unwanted attention. I was sure the guys ahead of us were going to break their seats and the bitch behind me was frantically hitting her call button to get a stewardess over to quell the commotion in row 28.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear the creaking noise because I had a slight head cold and my ears were stopped up. I had no idea that we sounded like teenagers humping in the back seat of an old car. Luckily the stewardess coughed rather loudly as she approached and I stopped moving, thankfully she stayed under the blanket. “More wine,” she asked then quietly told us to wait about another hour to start fooling around because by that time most of the passenger would be asleep. God Bless her little heart for that valuable piece of information. Miraculously, four more bottles appeared, again with another great big smile and a wink. God, I love British Airways!
She said we had to occupy our time somehow and that’s when she started kissing me deeply. I remember thinking, well, this is a great way to kill time but then she started to get frisky again. She unbuttoned her pants, took my hand and slid it in between her legs where she was dripping wet. Oh man, I absolutely loved this and then she took my hand out and put two of my fingers in her mouth and two in mine at the same time. Perhaps this was the African equivalent of a romantic champagne toast, whatever it was I wanted more. She then shifted to her right side and moved her ass right up next to me, positioning me to enter her. That’s when the back of my chair suddenly rocked forward as the bitch was pushing it forward to get a better look. I wished the God damn voyeur would leave us alone for just a few more minutes then I would be finished. She didn’t give up and once again punched the call button. Luckily the stewardess had a kind and generous heart and told the bitch that we weren’t doing anything wrong. If she only knew what was going on under the blanket at that very minute.
She finally settled down after I convinced her that it would be better to wait another hour. God, that hour passed so fucking slowly. It was like being back in grammar school, watching the clock move second by slow second till recess time. You remember those days, don’t you? Slowly but surely we started hearing people begin to snore and this was the signal we were both waiting for. She shifted around and again put her head in my lap and very gently slipped me into her mouth, moving her head up and down very slowly and rhythmically.
She was so good but every once and awhile she would make a loud sucking sound whenever she raised her head up too far. This would instantly cause movement all around us. I was holding on to the armrest with my left hand and cupping her ass in my right as I came in her mouth. For the life of me, I don’t know how I managed not to scream out loud but somehow I kept relatively quiet. She got up, looked at me then smiled and swallowed. I was instantly in love, madly, deeply and passionately in love with this complete stranger. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even know her name! Within minutes we were asleep and I’m sure everyone around us was thankful that we were because now they could also fall asleep.
I just dozed but she slept soundly, occasionally snoring, not heavy snores but those cute feminine kind. When she awoke she was just as horny as when she fell asleep and she put my hand down her open pants and moaned in delight. That got the natives awake and the guys were once again leaning back in their seats not daring to miss a moment of our interlude. Oh yes, the bitch in row 29 was also wide awake and leaning forward. As I rubbed her clit she moaned even loader until she came when she was unexpectedly quiet yet quivered for about 30 seconds in ecstasy. I looked up and saw about 30 heads turned our way and figured that they were all jealous of us. Shit, I would have been.
I felt that now was an appropriate time to introduce myself and she told me her name. I figured that Princess was a suitable nickname for her and actually told her that. She liked the fact that I called her Princess and I loved that fact that she gave me a blow job at 31,000 feet. Coincidently, she lived near Philadelphia; we exchanged phone numbers and promised to keep in touch. Then she told me that her husband was meeting her at the airport and that’s when I almost had a heart attack. “What was that about a husband,” I blurted out. She then explained that it was a loveless marriage, one more of convenience so that she could stay in the states. She mumbled something about a divorce in the works, but I took that bit of information with a grain of salt. Well, this was a sudden turn of events but I desperately wanted to see her again because I truly loved her. Remember I fall fast and hard, especially if she swallows. The passengers around us were also completely mystified by this twist because I could hear them buzzing amongst themselves.
The looks we got while getting off the plane were quite interesting. Some looked at us with disgust in their eyes but the majority gave us great big smiles. We couldn’t go through Customs together because she wasn’t a U.S. citizen so I waited for her to come out of a separate area. She gave me a great big hug, pressing her crotch against mine and said she would call me soon. I really never expected to hear from her again but at 8:00 a.m. the next morning my phone rang and it was her wishing me a Happy Valentine’s Day. Holy shit, my dreams were answered and then they came true. “Do you want me to come over,” she politely asked. “How soon can you get here,” was my anxious and clumsy reply. “One hour,” was all she said and then I heard a click as she hung up. I can only tell you that it was the most phenomenal Valentine’s Day I ever had.
She couldn’t wait to fuck my brains out and within two hours she came six times. By the time we were done, I came three times to her fourteen. She’s multi-orgasmic to say the least. Oh yes, I’m still seeing her regularly and she got divorced within months of our first meeting. Whenever we travel anywhere together she always has to give me a blow job whether we’re in a plane, train or automobile. I think she likes the excitement of doing it in public and having others around to watch. Whatever it is, I just love it. When she gives me a hummer in the car she strips completely and rises up her ass so that all the truckers get a good look. Sometimes, I have trouble outrunning the tractor trailers. Going to the movies is also a treat because she likes matinee shows that aren’t too crowded and always gets down on her knees to take care of me. I’ll keep loving her as long as she swallows. God this is a long explanation, much longer than the one about Seabird, but you must admit this one kept your attention longer, didn’t it? Now where was I?
This is Felix’s last night in town and around 10:00 p.m. he shows up at our suite. The Porcelain Princess went home so he came over to say his good-byes. While he’s in the room he’s gushing about what a wonderful girl she is then grabs my camera to prove his point. He scrolls through the pictures till he comes to the one I took of the two of them on the beach. “Here look at this, look at how much happier I am with her than I was with the Bimbo,” he said as he longingly looked at the picture. Miss Bubble Lips looked at it and agreed with Felix that he truly looked happier with her. I looked and just smiled. Then Felix told us that when he took the Porcelain Princess back to his hotel, fully expecting to pay an extra R$100 guest fee, they told him that there would be no charge. In other words, he could have switched out the Bimbo earlier had he known this. Newbies make all the mistakes, don’t they?
Felix wanted me to go with him to Help for a few hours so he could occupy his time till he left for the airport at 4:30 a.m. Miss Bubble Lips wanted to stay home because her ass still hurt. Poor thing! I told him that I would get changed and meet him in the lobby. As soon as he left the room I grabbed my camera and scrolled to the exact same picture I took of him and the Bimbo on the beach. “Look at this,” I said to her. She glanced at the photo and said that she had just seen it not minutes before, that’s when I told her to look more closely. “Oh my God,” was all she could utter. Felix looked exactly the same in both photos—they were absolutely identical shots of him. Oh well, somehow he saw a big difference and that’s all that really matters.
Before entering Help we did our usual routine consisting of getting a few beers at Terraco and watching all the sights. As we’re sitting there Felix turns to me and says that being out with me is like watching two praying mantises copulate. What the fuck did he mean by that I wondered, and then he explained? He said that when they mate there’s very little action with practically no movement at all, but you know that as things are coming to a swift conclusion something spectacular and horrific is going to happen when he’s finished. “Like what?” “Right after he comes, he goes,” was all he said, leaving me completely in the dark. “What the fuck does that mean,” I said in an effort to get him to elaborate? “How about she bites off his head to kill him, then eats him,” was his simple reply. What the hell does he mean by that? How the fuck is that like being around me? I still don’t get it, do you?
Felix and I go in around midnight and this time I take my knife with me. It sets off the alarm but the security guard waves me through like I’m his old friend. Perhaps that R$20 note I gave him the other night had some affect. I suddenly find myself giving people money in some weird effort to buy their allegiance; it definitely works up to a point. Felix is again in heaven as he starts to get the looks and air kisses. After walking around for awhile a girl approaches and asks him for a drink. “She wants me to buy her a drink,” he says as if she’s in love with him. Unfortunately, right after he got her some expensive cocktail that romance quickly ended.
Well, Rio is the city of romance and within a minute another girl approaches and asks for a drink. “I think she likes me, I’ll buy her a drink,” he anxiously tells me. “Go for it,” I tell him and R$9 later she’s sucking down a fruity cocktail. I found it difficult watching this newbie getting worked over so I said my good-byes and got into one of the cabs out in front of Help to take me back to my hotel. Remember, Tigger is out there somewhere. I hadn’t forgotten that fact as I gently caressed my trusty knife in my pants pocket. When we pulled up to the hotel the driver said, “R$20, senior,” fuck the most the trip should cost only R$10. Perhaps newbies weren’t the only ones getting ripped off tonight, I thought as I tried unsuccessfully to pay him with two slightly melted R$10 notes. Now my losses have reached R$70! Miss Bubble Lips was watching cartoons as I entered the room and whatever ones she was watching sure made her horny because all she wanted to do was fuck me to sleep. She was very successful indeed!
It’s an overcast morning just like Fernando predicted, according to him it will start raining around 2:00 p.m., but I hope he’s wrong so I can get back some of my bonus money. At 7:30a.m. I decide to go for my morning walk and as I’m walking down toward the beach somehow my folding knife partially opens in my pocket lodging in my right thigh. Guess I shouldn’t have played with it so much but I had made it through ten days unscathed that I got a little carried away and was trying to open it in my cargo shorts pocket. Who would have thought that I could stab myself? You’re right, it didn’t seem plausible to me either.
Slowly I limped back to the hotel where I had my medical kit. It had everything in it and I was prepared for practically any disaster. When I got it out Miss Bubble Lips said, “You’re not going to put that stuff on my teeth again, I didn’t like the way it tastes.” “No Honey, I scrapped my leg next to a building and got a small cut,” was a good short lie. No sense in making up a long convoluted story to cover my stupidity because walking into a wall like I claimed would seem perfectly believable to her. Somehow she understands me like a mother knows her kids. Confused, well, I can’t seem to figure it out either?
I went into the bathroom and got out the Curad Spray Bandage which is absolutely phenomenal stuff. One of my neighbors, the doctor, gave it to me when I had a little accident. Actually, I was showing him how proficient I had become with the new SOG knife that he helped buy for me. He ran into his house and promptly returned, spaying this stuff on my self-inflicted wound. It stopped the bleeding immediately and then he made me swear to him that as long as I carried the knife I would have the Curad nearby. Doctors can get weird sometimes, can’t they? Oh what the hell, he’s a fucking shrink and we all know how crazy they are.
After sealing the wound I decided to resume my walk and as I approached the beach I thought I saw a vaguely familiar face. Sure enough, Tigger was lounging on the beach right behind the Bunda Sand Sculpture and I must admit it looked like he had a bad night. Despite all the dire predictions, here he was a pitiful soul not more than fifteen feet from me. He looked right at me and didn’t even recognize me so I kept walking; turning around every few steps to make sure he wasn’t following me. Nope, he was staying put. About half an hour later I returned and asked the guy standing near the sculpture what was the matter with Tigger. He touched one side of his nose and said one word, “glue.” I quickly remembered my one and only glue incident back in the third grade. I got caught trying to taste the mucilage, you know that amber colored glue in that little bottle with the funny angled orange colored rubber dispenser on top. Yup, I got caught red handed and sent to the principal’s office to get chewed out real good. I know you won’t believe this, but because of that incident I never took any illegal drugs, only prescription drugs and God knows I take a lot of them, that is until the cialis episode on the plane. That was a total accident, honest!
Bunda Sand Sculpture
I’ve completely lost my train of thought: this fucking report is driving me crazy by making me relive all the fuck ups in Rio. Oh shit, I was telling you about Tigger. Okay, so the question that probably first comes to your mind is: what shirt is he wearing? Am I right? Yeah, you guys could care less about my safety; you just want a fucking wardrobe analysis, don’t you? Look at how GQ has affected our sensibilities, appalling isn’t it? Well, he had on one of those yellow Brazil soccer shirts with the number 9 on it, like practically everyone else wears in Brazil. This must be the most popular soccer shirt because after seeing him in it, I suddenly notice how many others there are on the sidewalk. Hundreds of them!
Oh fuck, I wish he was wearing an Eagles jersey or something like that. That way I could spot him in an instant. I’m standing only three meters from Tigger and he doesn’t even have a clue that it’s me and I’m pretty fucking easy to distinguish from the other gringos. That’s good; he flunked that test so I should be safe for the rest of the trip and I start to relax a little. In a perverse way I feel somewhat sorry for the guy then quickly get this urge to find a local hobby shop so I can buy him a case of his favorite glue to further enhance his brain. His pitiful condition saddens me again for about two seconds, and then I think that God’s punishing him for his evil ways. Then I think what does He have in mind for me? Oh shit! On the way back to the hotel I stop off at the Laundromat to pick up my laundry, but it’s not ready yet and again my mind focuses on that fucking experiment. This is becoming a fucking obsession!
It's around 9:30 a.m. and I go back to the room to find Miss Bubble Lips sleeping soundly and since her ass still hurts I decide to let her sleep for a few more hours. I quickly leave the hotel and walk directly to Ipanema and stand outside the casino wondering how can I complete my quest, you know that thing about water and clockwise and counterclockwise rotations. I started aimlessly walking around and suddenly find myself right in front of the place where I knew I could successfully conduct this experiment. The Princess Copacabana thwarted me by not giving me a stopper but nothing would stop me now. Without Miss Bubble Lips on my arm I won't attract much attention and this is exactly what I want. I walk in the place confident that I can complete my task and as I look around I see four employees in blue shirts watching me and I'm sure there are others.
Strangely, I don't see any obvious surveillance equipment and this excites me. I'm going to prove this experiment one way or another regardless of the consequences. As I walked through the place I wonder what machine I should play. I look over and see the familiar thing going round and round hearing click, click, click, click which sounds exactly like a marble is in there but I have to focus on the task at hand. The machines are all lined up in a neat little row each beckoning me. Slowly I approach one, dropped four coins in the slots and push the lever. It seems as though all eyes are on me despite the fact that Miss Bubble Lips is slumbering blissfully in the room. As I watch it, it felt like an eternity had passed and I still don't know the outcome yet. I grab the machine, look around to see if anybody's watching me and pry open the top.
Sure enough, things are still spinning around in there and suddenly I hear voices and slam the top of the machine down. These guys are amateurs, not paying attention to anyone just standing there talking amongst themselves. I walk outside for a minute and figure the odds and, as is usually the case with me when things start going south, I always double up. I walked back in, select another machine, put in four coins and push the lever. Unfortunately, practically every time I do this, I only manage to go south quicker. Now, they're six blue shirts watching me and I suddenly feel like I'm under a microscope. I pry open the top of this machine and look in. One of the blue shirts runs up to me and says, "Nao senior." Undeterred, I open it again and try to put to rest all the arguments but they thwart me each and every time I try to get into the machine. Why? I paid to use it, I should be able open it whenever I please. Apparently they have different rules and regulations here in Brazil because they almost physically restrain me then walked me near the entrance, suggesting I immediately leave.
What did I do? I just wanted a look inside to watch things spin around and conduct my experiment. After all, I put my coins in the slots that bought me the privilege to open it, right? I need support, look around the floor and get only a few blank stares. No support whatsoever. They motion me again to the door, what else can I do? I look back and hear the familiar hum as it spins and spins, I'm shocked that I'm being forced out right when I have the ability to prove this whole fucking experiment. But, oh no, they're conspiring against me. Christ, I don't even know my exact loss but I'm really pissed. Just let me open it up and I can prove my hypothesis. "Fuck you" is the look I get as I'm ushered to the door. I can't fucking believe how close I was to finding the answer. As a sea of blue shirts turns back inside and I'm standing outside all alone, I wonder what the results would have been if I only could have completed my experiment. Shit, I’ve been thrown out of fancier places, but before I leave I have to ask one more question, “Oh, by the way is my laundry finished yet?” All I hear is, “Nao!”