Permiso

People are willing to endure some pretty unbearable conditions for free beer.  They are willing to wait in crowds, packed in like sardines, holding out empty cups as close to the bar as possible in the hopes that the bartender will choose theirs to be filled next.  They will push, shove, elbow, step on and glare at all of the people pressed up against them.  All of this just to drink their 6-ounce cup of cold brew in heat so intense that is almost palpable. 

I know all of this for a fact because I was one of those people.  Many bars in Gainesville offered girls free beer every Wednesday night.  Sweating, shoving, and holding out my little cup, I was a free-beer junkie.  By the end of my four-and-a-half year college career, I had even figured out little tricks to expedite the process; i.e. learning the bartender’s name, pretending you’re just trying to get to a friend or through to the bathroom, hold up money instead of a cup.  I like to think of myself as an expert in the art of getting free beer.

El Alamo, the bar I work at, has free beer for girls from 4 p.m. to midnight.  As a server to the few tables we have, it’s my job to navigate through the mass of beer fiends to get to the bar for food/drinks for my tables and then fight my way back through the crowd.  The key phrase is permiso.  It basically means “excuse me,” “sorry,” and “get out of my way” in one word.  I said it well over 500 times last night.  No exaggeration.

People here don’t really tip.  The other server I was working with last night told me that she just asks for it: “Una propina, por favor?”  She says that most girls don’t have the nerve to do that, so they only make about $20 pesos a night.  She usually leaves with over $100.  I’ll get the nerve.

Even though I don’t make much money in tips and was constantly trying to navigate through a mob of sweaty drunk people, I was in relatively high spirits for most of the night.  Granted, it’s difficult to be in a bad mood when every two steps someone is telling you that you are the most beautiful creature on the planet.  I’m not naïve; I know Argentine’s are infamous for their incessant flirting.  But, hey, I don’t care who you are, there is nothing terrible about being told how gorgeous you are.  One guy would actually ended up get down on one knee and propose to me a couple times.  Don’t worry, though, there are several huge security guards in case anybody tries anything creepy. 

I would say 90% of the customers are locals, but communicating isn’t that difficult.  I was actually really proud of myself for making it through the night without many problems.  The combination of flattery and being proud of myself kept me in a great mood all night despite the unfavorable circumstances.  Both of these things will eventually lose their glamour, but hopefully by then I will have mastered the art of asking for tips.  “Una propina, por favor?”