Just like any highly-expected and carefully-planned moment, Thursday didn't think so.

Silvia couldn't believe the thousand ways things got complicated, in a geometric progression that seemed determined to push absurd into plain surrealistic before her gaping eyes, taking any control out of her hands until she could only hope she'd made it through alive.

Claudia's parents lived forty minutes away from Jim's hotel by car. The other way to get there was by train and bus, and it took almost two hours on a good day, like a Saturday afternoon.

So the Commodore had promised he'd take them there. Keeping traffic and other odds in mind, they would be leaving about four to get there by five. Until the Commodore's phone rang and he was asked to cover for a colleague that had just called in sick. He was assigned a flight scheduled to take off at four, so he hardly had a chance to grab a bite before leaving for the airport. On the family car, of course.

Claudia wasn't in the best terms with her big brother, but her mother insisted and called her son herself, to see if he could cover for his father.

"Yeah, sure, Mom. I'll be there by five-thirty."

"Never mind, we're calling a cab," Claudia hurried to say, relieved to be spared from owing him a favor.

Buenos Aires' government had suspended all Uber permits, so any Uber ride would take them only up to the city limits, which was just the same as taking the train and the bus.

Claudia and Graciela swore the nearby cab company had plenty of cars and they didn't need to book one in advance, but Silvia would have none of it. However, she would've liked to be surprised when the receptionist told them they wouldn't have any car available until four-thirty.

"Don't worry, you'll get there in time if you leave here by four-thirty," Graciela said.

Seeing her friend's face, Claudia tried a few more cab companies in the area. It was only obvious that with Uber banned from the city, they couldn't find a single taxi available between four and four-thirty in miles around Graciela's home.

So they called back the local company to book them for four-thirty.

"Four-forty," the receptionist corrected. "More requests came in since you first called."

Silvia threw up her hands and shrugged. It was already three, and knowing how long Claudia usually took to get dressed even to go to the groceries', there was no way they could resort to the public transportation option on a weekday and get there before dinner.

They confirmed the reservation and Silvia sent her friend to get ready.

The boiler decided to shut down when Claudia stepped out of the shower, and Graciela warned Silvia it would take twenty to thirty minutes to restart the old thing and have hot water running again.

"Never mind," Silvia said, swallowing a sigh, and headed upstairs for a cold shower.

Back to her room, trembling, snoozing, rubbing her arms to try to get a little warm, she grabbed the black jeans she'd bought for the occasion. She'd been careful to wear them for a whole afternoon beforehand, to make sure they weren't too tight and allowed her to breathe. She'd washed them with cold water the day before and let them to dry in the open, not in the drying machine. No use. The damned thing had shrunk three or four sizes in the process.

She rummaged through her rucksack like she didn't know what she'd packed. They were there for a few days, so she hadn't brought much. The options were the jeans she'd just taken off before the shower and her spare—where were they?

"I thought you wanted them clean for the weekend and washed them a while ago with the rest of the laundry," Graciela said with her nicest motherly smile.

"Oh, thanks."

She was struggling to pull up the new jeans past her hips when her phone buzzed with Jim's text.

He was already in Buenos Aires! Her sudden urgency pulled the damned denims up in one yank. And broke the zip at the second attempt to pull it up.

Silvia wriggled and squirmed her way out of her new black jeans and wore the ones she'd been using for the last two days. Shit.

At least she still had the black tank top Jim had qualified as almost sexy on her camping photos, and her white shirt to wear on top of it.

Claudia had taken over the bathroom upstairs the minute Silvia had exited it, so she headed to the toilet downstairs to do her hair. She was almost at the last step when she stumbled onto Graciela, who was coming up with her tray of painting stuff.

By then, Silvia considered herself lucky because the painting only ruined her shirt and her top, and sprayed a few tiny colored drops on her jeans. Swallowing curses and tears, she went back to her room and rummaged her rucksack again. Graciela had thrown all the clothes she'd left out into the washing machine, and the only thing she had left that didn't look like a sack of potatoes was a tank top she'd never used outside her house, Christmas loving present from Paola's wicked sense of humor. The color was pale pink, with huge bright pink flowers on the chest.

Pink flowers to meet with Jim Robinson. Just so damned fitting.

But she didn't have anything to wear on top of it. Graciela knocked on her door with a consolation offer: a summer black coat like a long cardigan, that fell down to her knees and felt like wearing a cloak. Silvia thanked her with grateful tears in her eyes. Not only did it look elegant and informal at the same time, it would also keep her from feeling naked with that tight pink top.

She was halfway down the stairs when her phone rang in her room.

"Sil! It's Mika!" Claudia called out loud.

Mika! What could've happened to her?

She hurried up the stairs, twisting her ankle in the right way to see half the galaxy. Never mind. The boot hadn't broken, which was pretty much a miracle that day, and painkillers would have to do to keep her from limping. And she even got to pick up before the call skipped to voicemail. Maybe her luck was improving?

"Hey, sis, just wanted to ask you what're we doing on Saturday for Juan's birthday."

Silvia would've strangled her little sister. "I don't know, Mika. I'm still trying to make it through Thursday. Text you later."

"Oh, right, you're meeting Jim today! Have a great night! And grab an umbrella, 'cause the forecast is rain in the evening."

She disconnected and limped her misery to ask Graciela for all the painkillers she might have in the house, and somehow managed to make it to the toilet without further accidents.

She only dared to comb her hair, afraid that using the hairdryer would cause a massive short-circuit that would leave the whole neighborhood out of power, and herself tanned, crispy and on the way to the hospital.

Claudia met her at the living room only five minutes before the car arrived, looking pretty and fresh and in the best of moods. Silvia was about to praise her looks when thunder made the windows shake. The loud clatter of the rain on the roof filled the room a minute later.

Silvia decided to light a smoke, careful not to set herself or the house on fire, and keep her mouth shut.

It was four-forty.

And the taxi didn't show up.

Claudia called the cab company to complain, and of course they swore on the four Gospels the car was already on the way to pick them up.

"You should give it a few more minutes to get there with this rain. You know streets flood so quickly in this area."

The few more minutes turned out to be twenty.

They heard the cab honking outside the front door at five.

Graciela grabbed an umbrella to walk them to the car. Silvia patted the back pocket of her jean to make sure she had the green pass.

"You have yours, right?" she said to Claudia.

Claudia's eyes opened like grapefruits and she sprinted up the stairs, crying, "I'll be right back!"

They were finally able to get on their way at five-ten. The time they'd meant to be walking into the Alvear Palace.

Silvia would've crossed herself as she commended herself to God, angels, saints and any temporary staff they might have upstairs. And maybe she should have, because the car pulling away from the curb was far from getting to their destination.

On their way, they came across what anybody could find on the way to Buenos Aires downtown. But all together, plus the storm. A train had crashed into a car at the only available crossing in a mile, stop lights didn't work and traffic was a complete mess. They had to go around a couple of protests with people yelling the rain wouldn't make them go away, and even had to avoid a police speed chase best Hollywood style.