Invasion of Floricienta and Fans

Los Tajibos, our hotel/apartment complex, was invaded by an army of little girls dressed in pink and orange and striped stockings this weekend. They were hoping to get a glimpse of Floricienta, the tv/music/dance star from Argentina in town to perform to 20,000 screaming fans at the soccer stadium and, as you can see in the photos, giving hotel staff a good workout.
To compare Floricienta to Britney or Hillary Duff or another female American pop star would underestimate her influence. Her fans form a cult whose adherents must wear clashing fluorescent colors and odd newsboy hats, who buy up newspapers whenever they include a free color poster and convince their parents to let them stake out her hotel early into the morning with the hope of catching a glimpse (she snuck out a side door without notice, but co-stars graciously signed autographs all morning Sunday.)
The scene reminded me of one of my more shameful reporting assignments: To stake out the apartment of the lover and beneficiary of former New Jersey Gov. Jim McGreevey. Me and 40 or so odd reporters from other media, all with equally uncreative editors, were forced to spend some 36 hours in the FRONT entrance of Golan Cipel's apartment building.
Editors didn't want to hear that the high-rise building had several fire escapes, a garage and a few back doors that likely provided escape to the bugger soon after he made news. Or that if he did decide to leave his apartment through the front door, he probably wouldn't have said, "Well, alright: Since you guys have been stalking me for three days, I'll throw you a bone and give you each an exclusive interview."
So like teenage pop fans, we waited in the rain and cold, under umbrellas, in front of the building off Eighth Avenue for 36 hours straight. It wasn't until he appeared on television in Israel that we were given a license to go home.