i'm sorry alfie

yeah. josh pities alfie for having a non-spic musical taste, but at least he's on the right side of the border. tonight (yeah, this seems to be devolving into a real blog entry. someone shoot me. scott) i went out all wide-eyed into the panamanian nightlife biome. first stop, miyake 777: all white tile and imitation ricepaper partitions. huge foam ottomans and chipped white formica tables. local draft beers were one dollar, which was nice (as all beer tastes the same). then again it was somehow being drafted out of a cooler fed by a rubber hose. i don't care, it was cheap. a myriad of 14" screens fed me the mtv latin american music awards from all directions. i may have been drunk, but i could have sworn that lenny kravitz had cut his andre 3000 ironed hair only to sit at a piano and do his impression of jamie foxx doing his impression of ray charles. next stop: wasabi. apparently the latest posh joint catering to our wealthy hebrew community. i mean, wasabi sushi lounge. everything is a lounge now. these fuckers can't leave the house without lighting a cigarette. damn spics. when i got there they were blasting around the world. of course, things went downhill from there (i mean, why else would i be mentioning it? if it's not miserable, it don't make my blog, oh no sir. sorry alfie). jackson five, prince's kiss followed by los amigos invisibles, segweying into billy jean. i nursed some martini derivative (as indicated by its accordingly-rhyming moniker) with an apple slice floating in it. it was moderately overpriced, which at least seemed appropriate. next stop: 8-44, some joint that was open even before i left panama. of course, it was closed, as it was 12:30 by then. tomorrow i have my visa interview. i hope they can't smell the apple liquor on me. we now return to our regularly scheduled programming.