I'M AT: Firstly, The Millhouse, which was annoyingly youthful and full of cocaine, cos it was Creamfields Dance Festival that night, and which I was glad to leave early the next morning for The, erm, Chillhouse, in posh Palermo, and it really was chilled out, and very friendly, and all the better for it.
I was incredibly pissed at my first Boca game.
Knowing me well, Corinne had warned me that there was no alcohol for sale inside the ground. So I filled an empty bottle of Pure Glaciar mineral water with Pure Cloaca vodka, and proceeded to drink it over the course of the match.
The stadium's called La Bombonera because it looks like a box of chocolates from the air. It was hot, and packed, and we were stood on the terraces, and I was glad when the sun sank below the West Stand.
And it was absolute magic.
The fans opposite us, the barra brava, hooligans, unfurled a huge 'number 12' shirt, and sang and shouted and screamed, whilst a fat, hairy bloke in a Boca ski hat climbed the nearby fencing to help put up flags, and pendants, and banners. It was sooo hot. I'd met a Kiwi lass and an Irish girl, and one of them had sunblock, and otherwise I would have died, pruned from the vodka. I forget both of their names.
(As luck would have it, we met the Kiwi lass again in El Calafate, I apologised for my state, she told me they thought I was on drugs, and we arranged to meet later so I could buy her a drink. We arranged to meet outside the supermarket at eight. Found out the next day, there were two supermarkets....forgive me.)
I woke up the next day not knowing how I got home. La Boca is a bit of a dodgy neighbourhood. I remember buying a flag after the game, and waving it around until it fell of the stick, and pushing it crudely into my back pocket. I'd also stuffed a page from the sports paper, Olé, into the same pocket, as I wanted to show Bud what the Argentinians make of the two West Ham players - the headline said When The Argentinians Play, West Ham Lose.
I don't remember the trip back, apart from being on the last Subte home, at 11.30 or something.
And I had to buy Olé the next day as well, to find out the final score. 3-1 Boca. It meant they were virtually guaranteed to win the Apertura, the first half of the season. It was a blur at the end. I found out there'd been a penalty. I then watched it on the TV as I waited in the arrivals hall of Eziaza airport for Bud's delayed flight to arrive.
Then I looked at my camera and found out that not only was the penalty at our end, but that I'd taped it.
Damn you Boca, if you sold beer this would never have happened.
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