A night in Bairro Alto

I sat down on a sidewalk being too fucked up of everything that meant life. Kicking a spliff up the roof. It was a much hotter night than expected and I was annoyed as hell of bringing a jacket that I had to wear on my shoulder. Each step reminded me of it.

So there I was…felling all the past three nights of partying, not being able to wake up the body the fourth time. I was on a dubious street in a crazy neighborhood called Bairro Alto. People passing, yelling, drunk speaking, kissing, hugging, spilling booze, smoking smileys…living the night they’ll forget in the morning.

On my right was a hard rock kind of a crapy bar and on the left a latin kind of establishment. Sitting in the middle of both I heard a mix of them. Latino Rock. Wonderful. I was wondering if fans could appear from dust and dig this shity music.

I was already accepting the shady decision of going home at 23:48 on a Saturday night, with all the “I’m to old for this shit” kind of thoughts.
By a mysterious force my glass slipped trough my hand, making my head turned right…and then…I seen her. A goddess of beauty. Blond, strong tan, striking blue eyes, marvelous body, walking with an impossible to be faked grace.
She was wearing black, ripped out jeans, white top and a caro shirt tied on her waist. She passed by, totally ignoring me, with her headphones on, smiling from her own world, not carrying about anything or anybody around her.

I was stunned. My hangover/drunk burning state was immediately put out by her floating appearance and as she was about to turn on the corner, I rose like a possessed soul. I was afraid of letting that one sight becoming a unique experience.

There was a brief moment when I lost her of my sight, so the last steps before reaching the corner were almost run down.

I haven’t noticed before, but she had a backpack on. A rum bottle holding drunk teddybear. Who has something like that? I already loved her!
After hundred meters of walking like a stalker behind her, she entered a building. No sign hanging. No people in front. It was an entrance without a door, just some stairs waiting five meters away after you entered. Damn, she arrived home.

Nonetheless, in my enthusiastic state I was thinking…what if she didn’t? So I entered and went up the stairs.
I was on a balcony of a large closed court, filled with white columns and arcs. Roman style.
I was so amazed, I almost crapped my pants.
The court was filled with people, both on the balcony and down in the court. Green lights were shading some beautiful sculptures on the balcony and flashlights were smiling in the court, were a beautiful crowd danced the moment of. It was heaven!
In my blissful, inattentive moment…I lost my goddess. Hey…where are you??
But before I could panic, I’ve seen her stepping down in the courtyard, so I followed.
I increased my walking pace and when she was next to me I said “have you seen the two guys wearing panda suits, fighting over a lollipop outside?”. It was a bad icebreaker, I knew it.

“Yes, I did” she answers “the guys were up to no good the whole night. I’ve seen them fighting with some ballerinas for their tutu es earlier”. She looks at me very serious for a moment and then starts laughing. Priceless.
“What’s becoming of this world. You’re not safe on the streets anymore.” I told her by returning a smile.
“I’m Rita, in case you’re wondering”
“Hi, I’m wondering. But my name is Vladislavovichi.” This made her face transform into a subtle giggle, that ended up in a half smile.
She asks me something but the music was getting loud, so I had to move closer and ask her to repeat.
“I haven’t seen you around here much. Are you coming often?”

“Yes. In the future. I just stormed in for the first time. But you look as if you own this place and the people around are like you’re family” I told her and while doing that, I was already speaking close to her ear, since the music was already too loud. Which was good. She was smelling like a sweat flower and her skin seemed incredible soft.

“You’re close by, but I’m not the owner, instead I’m the PR of this movement and in this crowd are some of my best friends”. She then explained me that this is an event that happens once a month. Always in a new location which is known only on the day when its taking place.
“How did you know about it?” she asks me afterwards.

“I followed you here” I told her with my most charming smile on, but I think it looked like a stalker smile.

“So it was you at the Latino Rockade earlier. I’ve seen you sitting there, waisting liquor. But here you are now. What do you do for a living Vladislavovici?”

“I’m a Happiness Scout. Searching for talents everywhere.” She smiled. “Since I lost my glass to gravity and you just arrived, let’s grab something to drink together. What say you?”

“I will come with you, but only if you…”

“Sir! Sir, we reached Saldanha!” yells an old cab driver and gives me a polite shake.
I was sleeping on the back seat of a cab at 6 something AM returning home from the same Bairro Alto. Was it just a dream?

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