Last night began like so many others. Dinner at home (pasta, a Buenos Aires specialty) , a pre-July 4th party at a friend's apartment (wine and Coke, a Buenos Aires specialty) and a game of should I or shouldn't I (go out?--a Buenos Aires specialty). I decided to live an adventure and went to my favorite club in BA, GLAM. What a crowd! One of the things I love about this city is that on any given night, there's never a shortage of hotties out looking for a good time. Shortly after I arrived, a guy came up to me and said hello. Like me, he was a black guy from New York City, and he was visiting Buenos Aires for one month. After a few minutes of harmless chit chat, I asked the million-dollar question (no, not "Cuánto mide tu pene?"): Where are you staying in Buenos Aires? Him: "Guatemala." ¿En Serio? Me: "Guatemala and what?" Him: "Guatemala and Carranza." Oh. My. God. He's staying in my building--two floor down! ¡En serio! What are the chances? (Two other, lesser coincidences: His NYC apartment is only a few blocks away from mine, and he owns a house in Atlanta, where my mother lives.)
I shouldn't have been so surprised. Apparently, I'm living in the hottest piece of real estate in Buenos Aires. And it's not just because my apartment was featured last year in a national magazine here called Buenos Aires Living. (The guy who designed my living room tables fell in love with my pad when he came to deliver the furniture and told his friend, a Living editor, about it. See the first three pages of the five-page feature below.) A month or two ago, my best friend in New York City told me that someone he knows was moving to Buenos in July, and she was moving into my building. Yes, you read that right. When she showed him a picture of the apartment that she was renting, he thought the design looked familiar and eventually put two and two together.
What are the chances?
That's not all. In November, my friend Zena came to visit me from New York, and she rented an apartment nearby. Unbeknownst to me, the deal fell through at the last minute, and she ended up getting a different flat. Shortly after she arrived, she gave me a call. Cue harmless chit chat. Then, the revelation: "Jeremy, I think I'm in your building." ¿En serio? Not only was she in my building--she was in the apartment across the hall from me.
What are the chances?
Planning a trip to BA and need a place to stay? Funny you should ask....