I dreamt I died and went to tango hell. There was a great hall there - similar to Confiteria Ideal - only larger and completely restored. It was beautiful and I thought for a moment that I must be in tango heaven. Then the music began to play... one techno tango after another and one longer and more horrible than the next. Just when it seemed more than I could bear - the tanda ended and I took a deep breath and a sigh of relief. "Nothing could be worse than this!" I thought. Then the cortina began - EXACTLY 30 seconds of di Sarli's Tu Intimo Secreto AND NO MORE. The cortina ended and the techno tangos began again. As they say in Buenos Aires: "Things could always become worse..."
I had no choice but to dance to these robotic electronica tunes even tho my feet were on fire and crammed into a pair of Flamebella shoes two sizes too small for me. The beats went on forever and ever and dancers (all stinking of garlic breath) rudely cut in one after the other during each dance. Each partner was worse than the next - one stepping on my toes, one kicking me hard with an outta control gancho, another biting my lip, and all of them chattering incessantly in my ear. Another 30-second cortina - Biagi's La Maleva - bounced on and off my ear teasing me mercilessly and was then abruptly cut off to make way for some weird alternative music that sounded like Yma Sumac, Diamanda Galas, and Joe Cocker screaming vomit a cappella. Somehow the people continued dancing to this. It went on forever without much variation except the volume and pitch increased. Finally it ended with a 30 second glimpse of heaven with the final cortina - Canaro's Poema. I thought my heart would break when the luscious notes were cut off along with all the lights. The Devil began to laugh thunderously and made the announcements. Then I won the raffle for a sour bottle of wine and free entrance to the milonga in Purgatory featuring the live music of Infierno (A new orquesta that plays in the style of Horacio Salgán.) Finally, thank G-d, I awoke from this foul dream...
Some kind of [poemic] justice. I will never speak during a Biagi tanda again.
+ This devilish diatribe inspired by a conversation with my friend Jim. (although he did not sin in the same manner as I.)