But, after the game, after the news from the medical department ... I saw friends calling each other to mourn, waiters screaming words of “Go Brazil! Even without Neymar!”, one taxi driver stopping the other in the middle of a curve to ask “Have you heard Neymar is out of the Mundial?”. It seemed like there was no single person in São Paulo, in Brazil, in the soccer world who didn't pronounce the word Neymar yesterday.
But, before the tragedy, the party happened as predicted: beer, cheerful screams, loud conversations and goals, off course. Like I told in the previous post, I went to see the match in Vila Madalena, São Paulo's bohemian neighborhood.
The bar I was with friends was not in the busiest area. After the game, I decide to go there, crossing the really full streets to reach the bus stop. Wow! What a crowd! Seriously, there were more people on the street than during the Carnaval. No kidding! And the mood was that same one: cars playing really loud music (Brazilian funk, mostly), burly, shirtless, tatooed man going for the girls. In the same minute a friend would take his hand out of my shoulder (pretending he was my boyfriend), male hands reaching for my waist and hair would come from everywhere. I decide I'm too old for the party and head home.
I surprise myself and my tired legs, as I get off the bus near Augusta, that street full of bars, alternative people, gay friends who won't try anything against my physical integrity. We are never too old for things, after all. It's all a matter of where we choose to be. For these days, in São Paulo, a city that still gives me multiple choices in a long Friday night.
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