In Which Mel Learns Firsthand the True Speedy Decision-Making and Athletic Ability of Bruce Willis in an Adrenaline-Rush Sort of Moment

(Writing from the top bunk of the Gecko Hostel in Palermo Hollywood, Buenos Aires, Argentina.)

Due to a sudden influx of 53 Chileños traveling together, as I am told is the norm, I am relegated to a four-person dorm shared by Manuel of Venezuela, Todd of Vancouver, and Bruce Willis, of the United States.

Bruce, a likeable guy, occupies the bunk below mine, and snores loudly enough that I am kept up most of the night with a (the only) pillow over my head, headphones in, albeit sadly not connected to anything, as my iphone was pinched on the Subte Linea D the other morning.  Good thing the Argentines believe wholeheartedly in the four-hour evening siesta - I have a shot at making up my beauty sleep later on today.

At approximately 2:15pm, I was on the top bunk trying to change inconspicuously after my shower, and my timing seemed to correspond perfectly with that of Mr. Willis´ internal clock.  Events happen in Hollywood slo-mo as follows: 

2:14 pm:  Mel is inconveniently half-naked and her shirt had fallen to where it was dangling precariously from the bedframe of the bottom bunk. Wrapped in a bright yellow scarf because her well-traveled, fully stolen boat towel was recently deemed wholly unsanitary and retired to a downtown wastebasket, with no ladder in sight because these bunks were put together with Lincoln Logs, Mel is forced to perch precariously with one foot on the back of a freestanding wooden chair in order to climb down from her unnecessarily elevated bunk to retrieve the article of clothing.

2:15 pm: It is while our graceful protagonist is attempting this outrageous balancing act that Bruce bolts awake, hits his head on the top bunk, leaps out of bed and into action in familiar Bruce Willis style, and plows into both chair and semi-nude Mel, knocking them down and allowing both Fodor´s and Lonely Planet´s exceedingly wordy Guides to South America to fall from their shelf onto Mel´s head.

2:17 pm: After a moment of stunned and increasingly awkward silence (on M´s part) and unexplained snorting (on Bruce´s), Mel manages to scamper up, grab the defiant garment, and shuffle into a corner to continue getting dressed.  Bruce mutters some very manly apology and, with lowered eyes, walks briskly out of the room and practically slams the door behind him.

2:25 pm:  Mel rather sheepishly emerges from the Hole, and is invited to BeniHana happy hour by Mr. Willis and entourage.

2:27 pm: Mel packs her camera and heads for the subway, reluctant sister in tow.

Arigato, Mr. Willis!