I've got to do something to validate the day, so I head for the Naitonal Museum. I'm not terribly excited about it. The hostel has cable TV, and in all honestly, I'd rather watch Two-and-a-Half Men re-runs. As far as pottery and history can go, the museam is sort of interesting. At least, it's enough to burn an hour-and-a-half and validate the day.
From what I've heard since arriving, Quito has the most dangerous reputation of any city I've seen yet. I gather the mugger's weapon of choice is the machete. There's a short list of no-go areas, but apparently, the less well-armed muggers aren't too shy about stalking the relative safezones. Everyone seems to have a story about a friend who's been robbed. Today, a fresh story comes from a German guy in the hostel. He was taking a picture in the old town in the middle of the afternoon. One guy pushed him, another guy took his camera, and that was the end of that.
In the evening, Emma and a couple of girls from the hostel drag me away from my Warner Brothers marathon of Two-and-a-Half Men and the Big Bang Theory to hit a nearby discotheque. I need a hell of a lot of sauce before I can, or should, hit the discotheques. As I predicted, the disco is not my scene. The scene is a little disco-lit bar, playing the same pop music that's followed me around for that last three months. It soon fills with gringos and what look to be eighteen year old boys. My scene is a quiet wooden Cask Marque pub of old men and a soundtrack of Thin Lizzy and CCR. I'm able to persuasively feign enjoying this scene for a few hours, but as midnight comes, I'm relieved when one of the girls starts feeling ill.
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