All Together Now...

We are all piled into a rented vehicle once again.



Lipstick, gum, road Cokes, and 6 perfectly quaffed, perfumed ladies jammed curvaceous hip to curvaceous hip in a car intended for 4 and maybe a toddler.



Jackie has gone on to cheer her insane husband to success in his unGodly event.



As we drive downtown, we are all sharing tidbits of information about ourselves again. Women are compelled by some twist of the DNA to do this. We are fascinated by the people around us. And so, as we adjust butt-cheeks to avoid Charlie Horses and circulation loss, we are digging deep. Who never ever shows off her bodacious boobs in anything revealing. Who self-medicates their ADD and with what. Who regularly forgoes underwear. A lesson on how to effectively get someone to stop talking to you in an instant. It is as enlightening as any PBS special.



We are headed to an upscale place downtown to meet other friends we've known since our first desert adventure 5 years ago. They are the parents of the lead singer in a band that we just love to hear play. And it doesn't hurt that that same lead singer is hot off the presses Gentleman's Quarterly gorgeous. And nice too. Can't stand it. Kate refers openly to him as her boyfriend. The parents and the band members tolerate it well. Kate has that kind of appeal.



We find ourselves at a reserved table requested by the parents. Drinks are ordered. People watching gets underway. The crowd is overdressed. The bar is noisy. I fear for the success of our Spatchcock inside joke.



The Parents arrive and we are all warmly greeted with kisses and hugs and step-back-let-me-look-at-you-you-are-fabulous-type adoration. It is great to see these folks. Always is.



And then the inevitable question about my engagement...so new last year. So last year this year. It is a question I can deftly answer without hesitation now, but it still makes my armpits clammy. I explain to Mom that for a lot of reasons, and far more defining moments, J. and I have gone our separate ways. She wishes me luck and love and all that I seek. I tell her that in the end, what made the biggest difference is that the relationship stopped bringing me peace. She hugs me warmly. It is a mother's hug.



And as the band takes the stage, the games truly begin:



The Krotchfelts are texting some people of interest that may join us.



Joy and I are watching a guy and his transvestite date interact with another couple whose faces speak of their trepidation.



Kate is doing the dance that tells us all she is 3 sheets to the wind, and ordering shots for the band members.



Priscilla is being asked to dance by all manner of weirdo, including one that Kate openly describes as looking like someone who would kidnap Elizabeth Smart.



A marital-discord dieter is out with her annoying brother who promised to take her out because the papers were signed that day, and while she is just happy to be among the living, the brother is out to bed anyone who will look at him and tolerate his breath. They sit at our reserved table. It seems to make perfect sense to me to tell her she can stay, but the brother has to sit elsewhere.



The band is everything they promise to be, and we are belles of the ball as usual. We are even joined by some of our other friends late in the game despite rumors that there is some dissention in the pack and divided loyalties. Alejandro and Danny cut a mean rug with us and pose for lots of pictures before the lights come up and all the Kardashian wannabes teeter toward the door in Manolo knock-offs.



We look for Candy and find her having a cocktail in a remote bar with the object of her affection that she'd been texting. She is clearly not ready to go home. Yet she is the designated driver.



Oops. Quite a SNAFU.



But Boy Toy is just as interested in extending the stay so he hands us a $50 bill and makes a call to a guy named Jimmy V. I am a little skeptical but have had too much Jack Daniels to make a genuine stink about anything. At least not coherently.



After seeing Alejandro and Danny off, we step outside into the night air to be greeted by an enormous black man in a beautiful suit. He has a magnificently appointed Escalade warming up curbside. This is Jimmy V.



Jimmy is no dummy. He's sized up the approximate ages of the 5 of us and has selected an 80's CD so we can all play a big loud drunken round of Name the Band.



Men At Work!

Devo!

Pat Benatar!

Timbuk 3



We are having a ball - and the miles pass in minutes and soon we are home and quietly preparing for bed...Tylenol cocktails and moisturizers all around. Tomorrow is our last full day. We have probably seen the last of our many friends for this trip.



We are smiling hard at all the fun, but melancholy at the trip having reached its final turn so quickly. Tomorrow we must pack.