Last night I went to see a tango show with my guests. I mean, when in Rome, do what the locals do, right? Um….
We went to Señor Tango, which was adorable if you love Moulin Rouge, Times Square, Rockefeller Center at Christmas, and Señor Gonzalez, that blinking Mexican restaurant (not person) on Houston and Broadway rolled all together and burped out into one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Buenos Aires.
Let’s just say that I knew we were in trouble when two vans full of Russian tourists wearing sunglasses (it was the nighttime) rolled up to the door.
As can be expected, the food at this place was about as good as it is on an airplane… which means that I tried to refuse it, and when that didn’t work, I pushed it on the tray stand of the person next to me.
When the show began, 10 people dressed like neaderthals darted out onto the stage, followed by two LIVE horses. For a second, I thought that I was at Cirque du Soleil. Then briefly I thought that I was back in the 19th century, when it was still appropriate to dress up people in black face and call them natives.
Once the tears of joy disappeared from my eyes, I saw that it was a mere tango show, with dancers wearing thongs, some adorable old men playing the accordian, and a crooner who couldn’t seem to get a hold on the microphone in his ear.
I took all of my pictures with my Hipsto-f-ing-matic, so here a few that didn’t turn out black, smeared, or bright purple.
When I saw this picture, I immediately thought: “This is what the fantasy novel I’m reading would look like on stage.”
A red lens only serves to heighten the passion between the two dancers.
Lexi: “I feel like we’re on the subway.”