Dirty Thoughts

It was an ordinary day in Buenos Aires.

Morning broke as I shut off my alarm and sat up in my twin-sized bed. The A/C unit roared just a few feet away in the kitchen-slash-living-room. It was sunny outside, enough evidence to foresee it being another scalding hot day.

I huffed and puffed as I got ready for work, knowing soon I'd embark on my daily 30-minute walk. Having been born and raised in Miami, I had become accustomed to sitting in traffic for over an hour during my morning commute. Something that Miamians tend to bitch about all the time, as I used to do. But hey, that commute comes fully furnished with leather seats and, my favorite--air conditioning. For that I'll take traffic any day. You don't know hell until you've walked to work in the hot summer heat through cracked sidewalks riddled with dog shit.