Saturday, July 7, 2007

Uspallata- Hotel Vienna

The Clerk.

Uspallata was only an hour or two down the road, and home to a surreal David Lynch-esque hotel that put us all slightly on guard. The bespeckled octageneric clerk checked each one our party of four in, an excruciating half hour process that ended with a roll call to make sure nobody had left in frustration at being stuck in the lobby for so long. He quickly developed an obsession with Megan, who we were traveling with; it was a starkly one-sided affair that began with several silent minutes of disturbing eye-sex (accentuated by his round, triple-thickness glasses) and culminated in several desperate pleas for 'un beso, un beso' (a kiss, a kiss) when we collected our bags the next day.

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