Put On The Dress, The Party Will Materialize

The Girls Weekend tradition is more than twenty years old and it amazes me how we have all changed over the years.

We have been together all these years as we've all gotten married, had children, changed jobs, dealt with illness, aging parents, deaths among our dearest loved ones. And some of us have divorced, married again, and in some cases, divorced again. 

We have suffered each others battle wounds and sung each others songs of joy for over two decades.  Friend like these are rare gems.  There is an easiness that can't be replaced or replicated.  We are like a pair of old shoes. Lots of old shoes. Old, but fabulous, sexy kitten-heeled old shoes that make our legs look great.

The next day we shop. We eat. We walk on the beach. We settle into a groove with the live music, our favorite waitress, the warmth of the sun, the beer with the lime.

Saturday night is for showering and primping and making a proper appearance. We are going to board the Drunk Bus and head up town to a club that we've gone to every year, which has undergone as many transformations as we have. It is always a memorable night.

But as we peel off and dress and primp in small groups, the plan takes on a life of its own.  The newly polished and transformed head out to happy hour to join the No Shower Crowd who will be primping later.  We bump into old friends and acquaintances.  We order lots of drinks. As people come and go from the table to get ready for the night, the band comes on. Kate, who has declared that she is not going out at all has returned to the bar having morphed into a sex goddess in a matter of 30 minutes. 

Kate is beckoned to the dance floor by a tall gangly overly confident man who watched her make her grand entrance.  She is about to refuse when I get up and push her toward the dance floor and commit to going there with her.  It is as though someone has plugged her in. She is in rare form. A dancing queen. A one woman show.  I come as close as I ever have to peeing my pants in public when she wildly flails and smacks someone who has joined our little circle of dancing fools. (A crowd has begun to form.)  She is oblivious even as he clutches his newly blackened eye and tries to retrieve his baseball hat to place back on his balding head. 

It is a night like so many before it. the best laid plans give way to the party that develops around us. If we just stay put, the party will start. Kate has gotten the party started. There is no turning back. We won't board the Drunk Bus. Those people should turn around and come to us!

The band is great, the crowd is worth watching.  We bump into friends old and new and laugh and tell old stories.  We toast. We joke. We take delight in people watching. It is what the weekend is supposed to be. 

The older woman pole dancing with the bar stool who is wildly gyrating and dipping and nearly wiping out. I think I recognize the dance moves from an Aerosmith video.  She's clearly come out to play. And expose her boobs evidently, as the girls make a cameo appearance over and over. She is like a train wreck. I can't stop watching though I know a disaster is imminent. Joy and I nearly choke when her hoo-hah nearly comes out to dance.  She apparently won't stop until she gets someone to pay attention.
Some time later, as I sit at the stripper pole/bar stool talking to Penny, she comes back to dance. Undeterred by the fact that the bar stool is occupied.

The couple that is flirting with each other as they dance. Nothing unusual there.  But she's wearing a long dress that is interfering with her dancing so she keeps hiking it up. She has no idea that everyone is riveted as she repeatedly yet inadvertently flashes her crotch. And the boyfriend's not telling.

What is with all the nudity?  Is it Take Your Exhibitionist Out Dancing Night?

The woman we dub the Energizer Bunny, who may have been the drunk woman I grabbed by the bra last year when she got a little too close. She is moving across and around the dance floor like it is covered in hot coals. It is like watching a pinball.  I am wondering where the dutiful husband is and when he'll drag her home. In the mean time she is high comedy to watch banging into people who have as much appreciation for her as I did last year. Hello, AA?

Wildly dancing Asian midget is back. I give her a wide berth.

We meet someone we call Prince Harry who is looking for friends since he's traveled to this place with three married couples in pursuit of fun and the three couples are all fighting so he'll have to find his own fun. He's come to the right corner of the bar.

And as one more Girls Weekend comes to a close, and the lights come on and the last drink is poured, we are all once again, raising our fruity shots of God Knows What in honor of each other, our enduring friendship, our unique understanding of each other. We forgive each other's sins, cheer each other to victory, hold each other's hearts, keep each other's deepest secrets. 

Surely it is a weekend dominated by fun and frivolity. But for each of us, it is also a reaffirming experience. And I am reminded of my high school year book quote, and the people for whom I'd written it, one of whom was Scott.  It applies in a profound measure to these ladies, who know my heart better than I know it myself:

"To know someone here or there with whom you can feel there is understanding in spite of distances or thoughts expressed -- That can make life a garden."  - Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe