Friday was a blast! It involved me and my husband, Heather and her BF and her buddy, and Heidi and her Fiancé. This is merely my side of the night’s story…
We started early in the afternoon on a rooftop patio, with plates full of spicy nachos, hot wings, and potato boats. Then, of course, there were the tasty libations. I am a fan of beer, so I started out my drinking for the evening in a small way…three beers, and NONE of them light. Then I thought, “Fuck that plate of nachos! I don’t need no damn dinner!” (And yes, that thought was in a sort of Southern twang accent.) I was already feeling a bit carefree.
Eventually, when the need to relieve myself became urgent, I made my way to the restroom, which for some weird reason involved walking completely around the entire restaurant. I thought it was odd that it was a single restroom…behind the cash register. Upon reflection, I feared this may have been reserved for the employees, but at that point, it was too late. That’s right; my piss—all in their toilet bowl!
A later trip with Heather to take another pee-break revealed that there was, indeed, another bathroom with multiple stalls. It was hidden in the basement, after taking three staircases down, and passing a mysterious room full of various unused/discarded items. (Seriously, it looked like a dusty flea market in that room!) Was I expected to find this bathroom before…seriously?? How the hell was I supposed to know!? I didn’t even see a bathroom SIGN!
(There was probably a sign.)
When it became time to head over to our next location, my bladder was happily empty, and my tummy was happily full…of beer, with a few floating “nacho rafts”. At our 2nd stop, we all shared some colorful fishbowls. They…were…delicious!!! And the neon straws were pretty exciting as well. The best part was the fact that this is where my Hubbs joins us. It was probably a good idea to have a sober/level head around at this point.
Then at our 3rd stop, we enjoyed cups full of more beer. These cups were larger than my head…literally! There was some pizza bought at this point, but I still had the “F*ck Food; I want this alcohol to do WORK!!” attitude. I don’t remember how long we were on the roof of Kelly’s, but I know I liked it.
And finally…we reached our final destination for the evening. I warned everyone that I didn’t know how to dance. Oh, sure, I can keep a beat and move my hips with the music, but that’s the extent of it. I know no dance moves, no tango, no cha-cha, not even a two-step! Apparently, these facts go RIGHT OUT the window after a few cocktails and a happy night.
The following may or may not be in perfect order and may or may not be slightly exaggerated. This is how I was SURE things went down while there (and in parenthesis/italics is how it ACTUALLY looked):
“Wooooo! Let’s get this party started!!” I holler to my girls as I sashay onto the dance floor.
(“Woooo! Woooooo! (garbled incoherent something something) Wooooo!!” I yell to anyone who happens to be in a 50 ft radius as I stumble onto the dance floor, then back off the dance floor, then onto it again.)
While dancing, a well-known rap song comes on, and while shaking my ass, I’m rapping every single word perfectly with the artist playing over the speaker, surely impressing anyone around me.
(While ATTEMPTING to stay standing on heels while swaying hips, 2Pac’s “California” comes on. “Wooooooooooooooooo!!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!! Yeeeeeaaaahhhh!!!!” I mumble every fourth or fifth word AS IF I know the entire song, and stand perfectly still for 3 seconds in the middle of the dance floor just so I can try to remember it…then I shake my ass, while a few fellow dancers back away, frightened.)
While dancing, in a stunning and AMAZING display of grace and poise, I toss my purse into the air, do an awesome spin on my heels, then I catch my purse after my 180-degree turn.
(I start to trip over my heels and chuck my purse onto the ground and across the floor, then spin a few steps sideways, accidentally, while almost landing on my butt, and manage to scoop my purse back up off the ground and stagger back onto my feet as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.)
I notice a young woman on the edge of the dance floor who is wearing a crown. She looks like she really wants to dance, so I ask her why she isn’t out there with all of us other girls. She replies that her friends aren’t too into dancing, so I take her hand, and bring her over to join our group. After all, since she is obviously celebrating one of her last free nights as a Bachelorette; she should REALLY rejoice to the fullest!
(I “dance” towards a girl wearing a crown, who I assume is a bachelorette, and drag her onto the dance floor. She is not a bachelorette. She has just turned 21 and is out legally for the first time with her friends. As she looks around with wide eyes because she doesn’t know how to respond, I continue to scream, “WOOOO!!! BACHELORETTE TURNED 21…DANCE…Us…YAH!! WOOOOO!!!! (some other garbled nonsense)” She escaped me 5 minutes later, but not before I could photo-bomb at least one of her friends’ pictures.)
I am back to dancing with Heidi and Heather, and we are all smiles!
(I am back to moving around like a dumbass with Heidi and Heather, and we are all smiles!)
At this point, I’ve decided to bust out a new dance move that I totally made up all on my own, AT THAT very second. It’s so clever and fun! I call it ‘The Marionette’, because I basically move my hand in a way that suggests my legs are hooked to strings from somewhere, and then I hold my puppeteer hand over Heather so I can “control the robotic” movements. Totally Fresh! Totally new!! Everyone is impressed!
(Without any explanation at all, I high-knee walk towards Heather, and then I hold my hand in a claw type shape over her head. As she looks up, she is yelling the question, “Jellyfish??”, wondering what the f*ck I am doing. What kind of signal am I making with my hand? It really does just look like a jellyfish type motion or a 5 legged octopus inking all over the place. I respond loudly, “MA-nette see yah??” My movements are questionable, at best, and as I glance around, smiling, our significant others are watching from the side, laughing their asses off at me.)
I sing along with any song I know at the top of my lungs. Everyone is thrilled to hear me!
(I sing along with any song that I know and that I don’t know at the top of my lungs. Nobody even notices.)
I drop it like it’s hot.
(I fall on my ass.)
While standing back up, I whip my hair around smoothly, while maintaining all of my composure, and continue to move like a pro.
(I fling my hands towards my hair to get it out of my face and manage to knock my earring to the ground, and then step on it, breaking it in half, before snatching it from the ground and sticking it in my pocket. I stumble to my knees again, before heaving myself back up off the floor and have a near meltdown due to the broken jewelry, then keep dancing, because what else can I do?)
After about nine hours of drinking, celebrating, etc, I felt it was time to go. My husband and I walked happily to the truck to go home. An evening well spent!
(After about nine hours of all the celebrating, my husband spends 20 minutes convincing me that it’s time to leave, and after exiting the bar I unevenly walk towards the truck, barefoot, and serenading all of Westport with a song that no one can understand, but me.)