24 hours of taca, rum with orange juice, smoking bars and lighter bumming.
ally sat with a fake inca woman (her copy of harry potter gave her away) who might have been a hooker, and liked to elbow her.
first peron we met was pedro, he had a renault with a st bernard airfreshner hangin from the rear view mirror, we knew we had to be in good hands.
good call, pedro turned out to be a bad ass motha fucka who really knows how to bone out of narrow streets when crack heads start circling the car.
our man gave us the run down of quito, found a place that would give us some shelter.
1, 2, 3 were moving on, the only thing we want from quito is some coffee, fruit and a pack of lucky strikes.
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