Anyone who reads The G Manifesto knows I don’t get impressed easily by modern day nightlife in general or modern day nightclubs in particular. Especially in America which has been on a heavy downward slide (in fact, if I was the owner of even some of the best American nightclubs I would commit suicide because of the pathetic product they are serving up). In Bogotá however there are a couple of places that impressed the hell out of me:
Andres Carne de Res
The New York Times called Andres Carne de Res “profound, spellbinding, beautiful, tumultuous, confusing and fattening all at once“. I am not sure about the “fattening” part, but it’s a pretty accurate description. Andres Carne de Res does that thing that seems to be impossible to do in America: combining a great restaurant with a great nightclub. Even more amazing is that is does both at the same time.
Here is how the place breaks down:
- Five or Six floors with a couple of “half floors”
- holds 1200 people ( I did some math in my gulliver and the place is clocking un-Godly dough)
- Way more girls than guys
- Insane meat grinds
- Great Service (It is incredible that this place even functions with all the mayhem and food service, but it does)
- Open super late
- Mindblowing energy levels
- Performace art
- Everyone, and I mean everyone is dancing non-stop
Fly girls, steaks served at all hours, crazy dancing? I think I found heaven on Earth.
(Side note: the original is outside the city in Chia. I didn’t go, but it is supposed to hold 3000 people. I can only imagine how dope that place is.)
Salto del Angel
Kind of similar to Andres Carne de Res only smaller and the food isn’t quite as good.
Insane Vibe, dancing and fly girls though.
Your life wouldn’t be complete without at least 20 nights in each of these places.
And swooping mass amounts of fly Colombianas while you are at it.
“Invincibility lies in the defence; the possibility of victory in the Attack.” – Sun Tsu
“I’ma a bubble-head, I never listen to nothing my mother said
Ayo, I hold n*ggas ransom for money like Johhny Handsome
been sonnin’ n*ggas for so long, I think I got a grandson.” – Big Pun
Here are a couple of notes from my recent trip to Riga, Latvia:
Riga also has this weird vibe about it. It seems like the place could use some more people. I mentioned before that during the Occupation, something like 550,000 people died, were murdered or disappeared. About 1/3 of the population. It seems like Riga could use about 33% additional heads on the streets. All girls would be nice.
Riga, Latvia is not really a “cheap” place to roll around. Especially, in the old city, unless you know where to roll. Or where not to roll. Refer to my Riga, Latvia: Nightclub Data Sheets.
Riga does party pretty heavy, but really only goes off on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. However, compared to a decent or good city in America (with its draconian smoking laws and early closing times), it rages pretty hard.
There are not a lot of prostitutes. I heard this would be pretty prevalent, but I think I was solicited only once.
Drug use isn’t very prominent. I was offered drugs once on the street during the day. The guy had no teeth and when I told him I wasn’t interested, he asked me for money. So I kind of doubt the guy had the Manchurian Connection to the Afghan Opium pipeline. Or had Francisco Rafael Arellano Félix on speed dial.
Things I would do different
Next time I go to Riga, Latvia, I would go when it was warm. The cold weather really threw me off. Keep in mind that I am someone who’s coldest night in the last few years has been a summer night in San Diego. I also failed to listen to my MOM’s advice she gave me as a young pup and went out at night with wet hair. That, coupled with all the raging and swooping girls, almost gave me a cold (my first one in almost 5 years) by the end of my stay. But my rugged constitution staved it off.
I would also try not to rage too much early in the week especially before you have the place wired. Raging early in the week makes you more susceptible to scams. Next time, I would Street Game heavy early in the week and save your bullets for the weekend.
I have literally made a career out of Going for Dolo, however in Riga, Latvia, it would have been smooth to have some backup (even just one homeboy with heavy hands will do). I wrote about my Judo Throw and a Karate Chop I received from a Russian cat earlier, but I actually ended up in one more fight before I made my exit.
Here is how it went down:
I was outside a night spot spitting some ill Game, mad melodic like Mandolins and Violins, at a fly Russian girl that was digging my moves cause she smooth while I was smoking a grit. A big Russian cat rolls up to me says something I don’t understand then, breaks my cigarette.
Unreal.
I had no intentions of fighting, but after two earlier altercations, I am more than ready. I try to calm him down but Russian cat swings on me.
I am a little faded from boozing, but my reactions are still sharp and I “catch and throw” on his mug trying to rock his face and stab his brain with his nose bone.
We end up in a “leather jacket tangle” and I have some leverage so I continue to torque uppercuts into his mug. At this point things are working out pretty well, until he gets his weight behind him and slams me, like Onyx, into a 600 year old stone wall, which wouldn’t have been so bad except there is like some 600 year old stone protruding from the wall which spears my back and almost knocks the wind out of me.
I am in pretty phenomenal shape right now and my senses are heightened since I feel real danger, so I recover pretty quick and keep on drilling him in the mug until his face looks like a plate of Latvian food with some spilled Claret.
Luckily, two big bouncers from the club separate us and I am thankful that they don’t take his side and play it straight up.
I bone out of there as soon as I get a moment. Girl vanished.
The next day, I was in Major Payne like Damon Wayans. Primarily my back. But you never know. It could have been from all the Beans I had consumed as a youth.
(Keep in mind, I am not writing these fight stories to make it seem like I am the second coming of Muhammad Ali, and Bruce Lee mixed with a healthy dose of Jack Dempsey. I have written The G Manifesto for 5 or so years and I have never mentioned Street Fighting before and I really avoid it at all costs.)
Another thing I would have done different is roll to some of the smaller cities like Jelgava. The first girl I swooped in Riga was actually from Jelgava and I would bet my last 1oz Silver Eagle coin that she wasn’t the only one from there that was mad fly.
Update: In my haste of writing this Data Sheet, I forgot another great tip that I have written about before: Language Lessons. I would definitely bone up (so to speak) on some Russian and Latvian Language Lessons with some fly tutor girls before rolling to Riga. I hate when I don’t follow my own advice.
Side note of sorts: African American G’s, from everything I saw there would clean up in Riga. I would just make sure I got some rounds in before going.
“The first and best victory is to conquer self; to be conquered by self is of all things most shameful and vile.” – Plato
So how did I finish up in Riga?
After all the trials and tribs, I ended up swooping two more insanely fly girls in addition to the fly 19 year old from Jelgeva. I really started wiring the place like copper. Every day, I continually stuffed the pipe with new fresh leads. In fact, on my last night there, I had two different girls that were mindblowingly fly both calling me and texting me to meet them out. I was pretty tweaked by then and ended up shutting off my phone as I had an early flight.
Now that I am back in America, I really wish I could have that night back. But that is how it goes sometimes in The Life of a G.
“Flawless victory, you n*ggaz can’t do shit to me
Physically, lyrically, hypothetically, realistically
I’m the epitome of catching wreck
catch you when you cash your check
Smash you when you pass then jack you for your f*cking Lex.” – Big Pun
Former Irish-American, Chicago Bears quaterback Jim McMahon has been in the news recently:
When Jim McMahon played for the Bears, quarterbacks were not protected the way they are today in the NFL.
“Back then, it was just tape an aspirin to your helmet and you go back in,” McMahon told us Friday at the Super Bowl XX Bears reunion. “I’ve worked with some neurosurgeons and it’s a very serious thing, man.
“My memory’s pretty much gone. There are a lot of times when I walk into a room and forget why I walked in there. I’m going through some studies right now and I am going to do a brain scan. It’s unfortunate what the game does to you.”
I have said before that I think the last full football game I have watched was the 1985 Chicago Bears Superbowl win when I was a little cub.
Although I didn’t grow up in Chicago, my grandfather and father lived there, when they traded the mean streets of Belfast, Ireland for the mean streets of Chicago’s Southside.
So, as a young little Baby G, I always liked the Chicago Bears.
Jim McMahon, who played football the way you are supposed to (all heart), was a two-time All-American (1980, 1981) in college, constantly told the NFL establishment to f*ck off, and led the Bears to the Superbowl title.
Winning the Superbowl, however, is not why Jim McMahon makes The G Manifesto Hall of Fame, as plenty of weesh guys have a Superbowl Ring. Jim McMahon, makes The G Manifesto Hall of Fame because of what he did the night before the big game.
A few years back, I was hung over after swooping an Exotic Dancer, and I started flipping around the channels. I stopped on some kind of “re-cap” show of the 1985 football season.
McMahon was talking about the night before the Superbowl how he and a bunch of other Bears were drinking and smoking, and hanging out with the people at a bar in New Orleans.
(Side note: Legend has it that, earlier in the week, at Felix’s Restaurant and Oyster Bar, on of my all-time favorite spots, The Fridge had reportedly sucked down four dozen oysters and a vat of gumbo.)
In the bar, he famously said: “You’ve got to teach your body who’s boss! If you’re feeling down, go out and abuse it again. If you don’t test your body, it will never learn how to respond.”
After a while, a bunch of New England Patriots walked in the bar, got a water or some crap and then headed back to their hotel to make sure they got a good nights sleep before the big game.
Legend also has it, McMahon, then yelled, cigarette and beer in hand, to the Patriots as they were leaving: “You p*ssies, we are going to kick your ass tomorrow!”
And they did. 46-10.
Now that’s G.
The Rest is Up to You…
Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
The Guide to Getting More out of Life
http://www.thegmanifesto.com
Jim McMahon Chicago Bears Highlights 1985
Chicago Bears-Super Bowl Shuffle (As wack as this is, the Bears are better than 90% of modern day rappers. And at least there is no auto-tune).
I continue with my routine of Entering The Dragon to get ready for the beautiful evil that nighttime brings. It’s Saturday night in Riga, and I notice that the energy levels on the street are a little lower than Friday night. (Note to self, Friday is the big night in Riga.)
I need to Fuel The Dragon, so I step into a little Latvian joint and get a grind on. The bartender girl, who is of course fly, gives me some pretty good Data Sheets on where to go for the evening. I appreciate her info, as some of my Nightlife choices so far have been a little off-point.
I get a few more “warm up” drinks, spit some Street Game, help and old Latvian Lady cross the street, and head over to one of the Latvian bartender girls’ recommendations. I enter the spot, and the place is dope (I can’t believe I never noticed it before, I think it was closed earlier in the week), but I can tell I am a little early. I need to find something better so I store the spot in my gulliver and head to another spot.
I arrive at the bartender girls’ other recomendation, and the place is on. Finally, I am in a dope spot in Riga: some hip-hop tracks, tons upon tons of fly Latvian and Russian girls, an upstairs smoking room with another DJ, and did I mention tons upon tons of fly Latvian and Russian girls?
I start spitting Game with a quickness. Girls are down. I start dancing with a couple of Russian sisters, both fly, and bust out some Salsa Game to some psedo-wack Pitbull track. The Russian sisters pick up the Salsa pretty quick and ask me, “Are you a Salsa teeecher?”
After making some rounds in the spot, I see a smooth black guy (one of the first I have seen in Riga) nod at me and I ask him, “American?”
He replies, “No mate, UK. You from America?”
I reply, “Yeah, mate. California. The beach.”
He then introduces me to some of his friends he is with. They are rolling five deep or so, and I figure it can’t hurt to have a little “insta-crew” since I keep finding myself in Karate Chop and Judo Throw situations in Riga.
His friends are all from UK and some are pseudo-Indian and Pakistani cats, and are all pretty cool. I have never hung out with any pseudo-Indian and Pakistani cats before, so its all new to me. These guys actually have some Game and are getting some girls cooking. They say they have been to Riga a bunch of times so they seem to know the score.
With a little “back up” I start doing what I do best: Swooping Fly Girls. I am feeling 120% off of my fresh swoop and Entering The Dragon session and my Game is coming real clean with no filler. Puro like Colombian Snow.
Moving from fly girl group to fly girl group, I am looking to swoop tonight. A few of the girls are so beautiful, my heart skips a beat a few times, but I am so seasoned at this stuff that I stay ice cold like a snow cone.
Outside the spot smoking some grits with some more fly Latvian girls, I notice a curious thing: A group of the Latvian girls are dying to have their pictures taken with the homeys from the UK. And they have no interest in taking a photo with me.
I ask one of the UK cats what its all about, and he says, “I think they like people with darker skin, Mate. It’s new to them I guess.”
Interesting.
We all roll back in and get back to work.
On second thought, the DJ sucks. He is playing tracks like this:
Instead of what he should be doing and spinning tracks like this:
Either way, there are still tons of fly girls in the spot. High Heels. Short Skirts. Thin. Fly.
My Game is on like Vietnam. (And I don’t mean that ETF, Market Vectors Vietnam (VNM), either).
I keep making solid, dynamic approaches, non-stop. Then I realize something: I have literally tried to swoop about 30 different girls in the spot to no avail. It’s really strange. If I am in America, and my Game is this tight, and I am feeling this good, I would have banged out two different girls by now, and back at the club ordering another Goose Soda Lime. All I have for my efforts is a couple of “loose” Number Crunches.
I kind of feel like Miguel Cotto must have felt in his fight with Antonio Margarito; I am landing clean shots, moving well and winning the fight on the cards, but I feel like I am ultimately going to end up in a bloody heap on the canvas.
Like I said before, it’s Strange.
I keep plugging away. (So to speak).
After a bunch more Game spitting sessions, I end up empty handed. By my count, I am something like 0-49 on the night. Unreal. A “Reverse Rocky Marciano”, of sorts. I literally don’t think this has ever happened to me. In my whole life.
The spot is still dope, but I ditch the UK cats and head back to the earlier spot. I need to switch up speeds like Bruce Lee riding the Fuji in that movie. It’s more on, this time.
I make a good love connection, as if my name was Chuck Woolery, with a fly Russian girl name Jekatarina. I get pseudo-stepped to by a big Russian guy, but Jekatarina helps and translates me out of another potential Karate Chop situation, and I smooth it over.
Jekatarina is pretty down, but I can’t close. She kisses me before she steps into her cab. I will have to swoop her tommorrow.
I can’t believe after one of the sickest, award winning Game performaces I have ever put on in my life, I am empty handed again.
I decide to get some culture in me, so I check out Latvijas Okupācijas muzejs or in English, The Museum of the Occupation of Latvia. Definitely, worth checking out. Real depressing though. Here is the basic rundown of the spot and the recent history of Latvia:
1. The Soviets took over Latvia and screwed them over.
2. The Nazi’s took over Latvia from the Soviets and screwed them over.
3. The Soviets took back over Latvia from the Nazi’s and screwed them over again.
Something like 550,000 people died, were murdered or disappeared. About 1/3 of the population. Not too many bright spots either. Like I said, pretty depressing stuff.
As I was leaving the Museo, I get a text from an 18 year old girl, named Karina, I met during a Street Game Session the day before while getting a SIM card from Rimi.
She wants to roll tonight.
She is not the flyest girl I have met by a long shot in Riga, but I figure 1) She’s 18 years old, 2) She speaks English really well, and 3) The whole affair has the promise of entertainment value and I can learn about the culture.
So I agree to meet up.
After another Vampire Nap, I get dipped and roll to meet her.
When I see her, she is with a girlfriend named Inga. 19 years old and super fly. Smooth. How often does that happen?
I roll with the two girls to get some drinks and these girls are buying me some Vodka shots, so I start to chip back away at the Scam dollars lost. The conversation is real basic stuff, which I actually prefer, as my Russian and Latvian skills are pretty weesh, and the two girls English is pretty basico, although Karina speaks pretty good.
Karina gets up to go to the bathroom at one spot, and Inga kisses me. It’s on like Eazy-E.
We roll to some weesh club, but it hardly matters as a “weesh club” still has mad fly girls in it, being we are in Riga, Latvia.
The night starts getting a little hazy, and I start rapping out with other girls and locking the place down Boa Constrictor Style ie The Bouncers, Bartenders and Waitresses.
I sit down and start talking to two fly Russian girls named Anna, and I think Christina. I notice there is some Russian cat kind of giving me the ice grill, but I pay him no mind.
The conversation with the two Russian girls is going smooth and according to plan as I Number Crunch the more fly of the two.
One of the girls says something in Russian to the cat ice grilling me which I take to mean “Beat it” or something. My Russian language skills are not too dope. She then tells me, “Don’t worry about him, he’s drunk.”
I respond, “I am not worried”. I glance over at him to see what he is up to then commence to spitting Game, my back turned to Mad Dogging Russian.
I continue with some dope story when I feel a pain in my neck. Russian Homeboy Karate Chops me from behind!
Unreal. When was the last time you were Karate Chopped? Maybe 4th Grade?
I stand up, Russian Homeboy backs off (he is pretty big), and I get ready to let him hear the birdies chirp.
The Russian girls jump in between us and I hesitate. I am not sure why? Maybe its maturity? Or maybe I don’t want to spend time in a freezing Latvian prison? But I don’t light up the Russian kook with a combo.
One of the Russian girls runs and gets one of the Bouncers I locked down earlier.
The bouncer comes out and grabs the Russian guy and ejects him from the club, using his head to open the door.
Smooth.
I trip out for a moment trying to make sense of what just happened, cause I want to know what’s going on like Marvin, but after a second of that nonsense, I do another shot of Black Balsam.
I continue raging till 6am trying to convert some of these leads back to my hotel to kick up their high-heeled boots, to no avail.
Good night though. Two physical confrontations in three days. Not bad.
But just like that, I go 0-3 in Riga, Latvia.
(Well, technically I am 0-3 on swooping girls in Riga, Latvia, but I am 1-0-1 on the physical confrontation tip. We will rule tonight’s action with the Karate Chop Kid, a draw.)
I have said it before and I will say it again; I have forgotten more dope moves than most top ranked International Playboys will ever learn.
Here is a dope move, with plenty of style and dash, that I recently remembered, when a couple of cats recently asked me the best way to swoop Gentleman’s Club Waitresses. As we all know, at certain Gentleman’s Clubs, the waitresses can be the flyest girls in The Gentleman’s Club.
This move is best performed on a “slow” night and kind of early.
Proceed to kick up your handmade loafers at the bar, get a couple high-end Vodka Sodas, ignore the girls dancing, Number Crunch, and make some small talk with the other waitresses (not the target), Exotic Dancers, Bouncers, and the Bartender. Who knows, maybe buy some Beeks or Beans; just make sure you Lock the place down.
The above is all “the set up”; now for the move:
Very important: you have up until this time, completely ignored the Gentleman’s Club Waitress you want to swoop.
Make sure, as you are making your exit, that you “time” it perfectly so you will pass the Gentleman’s Club Waitress you want to swoop. This will make the move appear more organic and “free-range”.
Now, walk by the Gentleman’s Club Waitress you want to swoop, and toss a $50 bill on to her tray, flash your dental work and say, “Take Care”. (A $20 should be good enough in a Down Economy).
Hold it a beat, as she is completely thrown off and has no idea what to say, and then walk out without saying another word.
Roll back into the Gentleman’s Club a few days later, take a seat at the bar and wait a few.
Pretty soon, the Gentleman’s Club Waitress you want to swoop will come up to you smiling and laughing and say, “Hi, my name is Robin, what’s yours?”
Then pull out the sickle, the pick and the shovel and Game Up.
Side Note II:
I have never done this move on a “Civilian” waitress, although I believe it could work. Especially in “cash heavy” cities like Las Vegas or Miami Beach.
Fun Side note:
I have pulled this move off more than a few times. The last girl I did it to, who was really ill, actually got fired from her gig for choking out one of the bouncers on a dare. I think she was taking some self-defense/ju-jitsu classes or something.
Even so, I went 12-0 with 12 KO’s VS her in the bedroom.
Recently on Roosh’s Forum these questions were posed. Here is the Data Sheet:
Favorite Daytime Bars/Spots to chill: Under 6000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets with a fly girl or girls. Piero Selvaggio’s Valentino’s in the Venetian. Joe’s Stone Crab in Caesars. Mario Batali’s Carnevino in The Palazzo. Emeril Lagasse’s Delmonico Steakhouse in The Venetian for a heavy lunch time, recovery-style lunch.
Favorite Restaurant with a bar for dinner: Thomas Keller’s Bouchon in The Venetian is numero uno and the most multi-purpose: Dolo dining, getting ready for the night with a running partner, con crew, or with a fly girl. I have done them all numerous times and Bouchon never disappoints. Followed by Alessandro Stratta’s Alex in Wynn (full go-off only). Paul Bartolotta’s Bartolotta in Wynn (great bar for some seafood apps and cocktail, solo, with running partner or biz meetings). Daniel Boulud’s Daniel Boulud (full meal or drinks and food at the bar Dolo).
Other restaurants of note: AquaKnox in Venetian (Oysters and Cocktail with running partner to warm up and get your stories straight for the evening), Mix in The Hotel (Dinner with fly girl). SW Steakhouse in Wynn (for big biz deals).
Favorite Buffet: Never been.
Favorite Casino with a pool: Don’t do the pool thing. Either I am asleep, or making moves.
Favorite Casino for gambling: Wynn, The Venetian.
Favorite Casino for staying: Wynn, The Venetian or The Hotel in Mandalay Bay.
Favorite Strip club: Spearmint Rhino is really all you need to know, although Sapphire, Treasures, Club Paradise, and Rick’s all have their merits (I might be missing a few here). And by “merits” I mean fly girls to swoop. Hell, I even had a Magical Night in Little Darlings once. But that was a different era. Scores was pretty legit but closed.
Any other spots to meet ladies: Not sure about “ladies” but for fly girls, Forum Shops at Caesars Palace during the day. Or catching girls on the fly on the casino floor. Ocular bar in the Venetian. Parasol Down in Wynn.
Best places to meet Exotic Dancers after work: The Peppermill for grinds. Some other grind spot that I always forget the name of even though I have been there at least 40 times with Exotic Dancers. Parasol Up in Wynn. Ocular bar in Venetian.
“Why, a visiting bishop asked Antoni Gaudí, did he trouble himself so much about the tops of the towers of The Sagrada Familia? After all, no one would ever see them. ‘Your Grace,’ Antoni Gaudí said, ‘the angels will see them.’ – Homage to Barcelona
This is a real valuable Data Sheet as this information is very hard to find on the internet, and almost everyone (one person came up aces) I asked prior to coming to Barcelona came up deuces.
This list is by no means definitive or exhaustive. Nor am I claiming. These are just some spots I was able to figure out that have mad fly girls; if you can get in.
Hotel Omm – great spot for a smooth cocktail to get your bearings straight. This was where I got stepped to by The Barcelona Nightlife Princess that was invaluable and introduced me to the fashion crowd, model dividends.
Solo Restaurant and Lounge – good on Friday nights and Saturday nights. 80% of the girls in here will be pretty fly. Near Hotel Omm. Closes at 3pm I think, but if you got juice, you can stay later. I had it.
Oshum – pretty sick club that stays open way late. Good on Fridays for sure. Scallywag behavior is possible here. Fly girls as well.
Broadbar – Want to see Spanish people dance salsa to hip-hop? Neither do I, but this place is pretty sick on Wed night. Tried to pull and “Inverse” Vicky Cristina on two fly 21 year old Catalan girls here, to no avail. But still ended up swooping one of them two nights later. Real solid spot, closes at 3pm.
Bikini – Crazy club open super late, good on Wed night. Probably other nights as well.
Sutton Club – Thursday night spot. Mad fly girls.
Hyde – Pretty wack, but being Barcelona, there are still fly girls there.
Dry Martini – ill spot for stiff cocktail before attacking Carrer d’Aribau area. Suited Down is a must when you bust.
Other spots to consider:
Nick Havana Apolo Tiffanys Ribelinos Seven Crowns (afterhours?) Luz de Gas Otto Zutz – haven’t been this time, but I used to chop up this spot as a 20 year old proto-type G. One of my old-school favorites.
As far as the Port Olimpic spots like CDLC, Shoko and Opium, I haven’t stepped. I am sure they are not too bad, but the Data Sheets I got was they are pretty touristy and International.
When I go to a place, I like to swoop the local girls. More difficult. And More Style Points.
Also, I heard The W Hotel is dope there, but I don’t do W Hotels.
Again, this list is by no means everything. I should know, I am keeping a few dope spots to myself for now. If you look hard enough, have some moves and understand the rhythms of the night, you will find them too.
Bona sort!
The Rest is Up to You…
Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
The Guide to Getting More out of Life
First night in town, no team around, Going for Dolo and begin my night at the Hotel Omm Barcelona lobby bar. Custom Suited Down, of course, I roll up, order a vino tinto and strike up a conversation with the smoothest cat in the spot. Or at least he was until I walked in.
I hit up “Oscar” for some Barcelona data sheets as I haven’t been to this city in a while. Oscar seems to be the resident playboy and he gives me some hot local tips, none of that Port Olimpic tourist stuff. I am out for fly Catalan girls.
Oscar gets called to the other bar by some cat he knows or the chef or something. So I just play the high post, and kick up my Gucci Loafers, International Playboy style. Within minutes, a striking blonde Catalan girl slides in beside me and orders a Cava. Her beauty actually gets me off balance and I hesitate; she looks like a young Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface, exuding class in a full length dress, dripping diamonds, flapper hair and all; which works out well, since I look not unlike a young Manolo. I even briefly think of “blowing out” my collar, but decide against. Thankfully, “Elena” rescues me and starts talking and we begin exchanging lyrical jabs in a “feeling out” round. This girl is beautiful; she could easily make my top 500 most fly girls I have swooped list.
Of course, Oscar returns when he sees me talking to the flyest girl in the spot and starts in with some high energy Game. This is not an uncommon situation; rolling Dolo, striking up a convo with a local G and having girls immediately step to you. It is however a tricky situation, a new ally can quickly turn into a new rival.
I have to hand it to Oscar, as his high energy Game, local knowledge and talking about how everything was “increíble” and “maravilloso” threatened to knock me out the box, and metaphorically, caught me with a looping shot.
I was now put in a tricky situation, I could have countered his high energy Game with high energy Game of my own, but I thought that could be a race to the bottom.
So I switched up speeds like Bruce Lee and took my Game down multiple notches, played aloof and effectively “shoulder rolled” Oscars Game. This made him appear a little spazzy and over-anxious. I also stayed in the convo and landed clean effective lyrical “punches” and even spit some Game in Catalan in addition to the Castelllano. For style points, of course.
Oscar wasn’t going to give up easy, and I can hardly blame him, this girl was beautiful and for all I know, I was encroaching on his Base of Operations. He had no interest in going out before to a nightclub, but when Elena, the Nightlife Princess, suggested going to the nightclub Solo, all of a sudden he was all in.
I did notice two weak points in Oscar’s Game: one, he did not smoke and had a slight cough, which told me he wasn’t 100%. And two, he said earlier he had to go to work the next day, so I knew if I could get him into deep water, I could drown him.
We all three skip the line at Solo straight to VIP. Although such things rarely hold my affection like when I was a younger G, however, rolling with a top tier Nightlife Princess, does have its privileges.
After an hour or so, Oscar, like I had anticipated, bowed out. However, Elena being a Night Princess, was constantly stepped to by cats she knew. I just stayed in the cut and used Nightlife Generalship (which is similar to Ring Generalship, only in a nightclub), to defeat all comers. Displayed some Salsa Game as well.
Solo closed, rolled to Oshum, things got a little Beeky and it had to be at least 7am. Endurance has always been one of my strong suits.
I go for the finish, “Quieres ver mi apartamento cerca de Passeig de Gracia?”
Gowalla and Foursquare, I am gathering are I-Phone type apps that bring all kinds of business value. But we are not concerned about that. We are concerned with how they apply to Swooping Fly Girls.
If you don’t want to watch the whole video, start watching at 3:45.
Basically these things can tell you who is in a Bar, Gentleman’s Club, Restaurant or Nightclub before you arrive.
So far, it really only seems like people in the Bay Area and NYC are using this, but it could be a huge future game changer in regards to swooping if you can tell how many girls and which girls are in a spot before going.
Will I ever use this?
No. These days I am actually getting less tech, than more tech. Too Big Brother for me. And I am way too old-school. (Although it could be used for creating a iron-clad alibi, and I don’t mean that Exotic Dancer from the Spearmint Rhino in Las Vegas named “Alibi” either. Real name Cindy.)
