In retrospect, there’s likely a moment that would have tipped you off if you wanted to see it. The bro-hug that lingered just a second too long. A faux-hawk. Exceptional dance moves. The absence of any females. The ripped, shirtless bartender upon entering.

Nights like yours remind me it’s just always better to see where a night leads – even when it’s an Argentinian gay club by way of drunken truck bed. Cheers to experience. All experience.