Day 43: You can't FedEx Justin Bieber.

Note: The Rules & Guidelines for the Yes Quest can be found here.

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When I told my ExStepBro that I was going to Santiago, Chile, he immediately hooked me up with one of his Yacht Week friends who, presumably, spends 345 days a year being a responsible member of society and 20 days a year under the influence of enough liquid and powdered ambition to make you wonder how the world still goes round and round when all the people who make it go round and round are busy chasing their youth on a sloop designed specifically to aid in the massacre of brain cells and dignity. 

I hear it's a kick-ass time!

We were only in town for four days and ExStepBro's buddy is a surgical resident in Santiago, so everyone was short on time. ChileBuddy asked if I wanted to come to his birthday party, which was being held a a club in Santiago. 

The real answer to this question is God, no. I'm assuming there will be strobe lights, crowds, and the electro version of "Despacito" on repeat. That sounds terrible, unless you're going to provide me with earplugs, private translator, and a puppy to keep me entertained. Also, please FedEx Justin Bieber into the club as well, so I can punch him in the face for puking that song into the Universe. I mean, I have plans. Sorry!

Instead, I said "yes" and was disappointed when I discovered that Justin Bieber can't fit into a FedEx one rate overnight box. 

Thanks to a gorgeous dinner at Boragó, the 42nd best restaurant in the world, Mike and I were already outfitted in our fanciest going out clothes, which meant I was wearing a pair of knockoff Toms and a sweater I bought on the street for $8. I hoped that we would be so insultingly underdressed that security wouldn't let us in, but like the idiot Americans we are, we showed up so early to the party (it was 11:30pm) that the club was empty and security didn't even check our name off the list. Regardless, we were apparently perfectly dressed for a Santiago nightclub considering ChileBuddy was wearing a bear suit.

(Side note, after four days without heat in the Chilean winter, I wanted to crawl in that suit and hibernate.)

Even without the crowds, I was ready to turn around and head home. But, I was on a mission to balloon and give this a shot. And so, I grabbed a pisco with a splash of Sprite (do not reccomend) and puffed my chest in my turquoise puffy coat, like the partially inflated balloon I am! I was ready to get this party started. Show me what I've been missing all these years, Chilean folks! 

An hour later I was half blinded by the strobe lights in my eyes and feeling an imminent blood sugar crash from the drink, all of which was preferable to the Bieb's unst unst unsting in my ear. I felt like such a dick. ChileBuddy was kind to invite us in the first place, and the whole point of this Yes thing is to get me to you know, be fun and do things. But I was decidedly not having fun, and while I'm sure the party would have kicked off by three A.M., I just wasn't ready to make that sort of commitment, especially when no one was asking me if I wanted to stay. I'd like to say that Mike was sticking around to be a gentleman, but I had the keys, so mostly he was stuck.

So, I did what any other smart person would do in this situation: bend the truth to save face. I asked ChileBuddy if our bracelets would get us back in if we left to go meet a few friends around the block, which was true. We planned to meet our dinner companions for one drink, then see if we were still up for a 2am Chilean party, but since I've never once had the desire to start the party at 2am, the writing was on the bathroom wall, right next to Sofía Martina Muñoz's phone number.