No More Vegas Nights
I pull over into an empty parking lot at about 1:30 this afternoon. I’m gagging and I can tell that I’m about to blow.
I open my car door and allow the fresh air to hit my face.
I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.
No, I’m not.
I stumble outside near the bushes as my new friend Tina rushes up to me with a few napkins. “You’ll feel better once it’s all out,” she tells me and walks away.
A quick poke inside my throat and I heave- all over the bushes.
I heave again.
One mo ‘gain.
I am relieved.
We both hop into our respective cars and I call her phone, “Let me go home and get some rest, we’ll have to get up later.”
“Okay, Call me when you’re done with your event,” Tina says.
I make it safely to Smyrna and run inside my apartment to the bathroom to heave once more. I take off all of my clothes and lie on the bed, panting. My head is throbbing. I feel like death, but I have to get over it because I have an event to cover for the magazine that starts in one hour.
Maybe I’ll take a little nap. That should help.
I lie down and close my eyes, the previous night’s wild activities flooding my thoughts.
So Tamara’s old ugly behind went out of town for the weekend, up to New York to see her man. Since Kim is too lazy to drive from Lithonia I knew that I’d have to entertain myself for the evening. The internet is out and television annoys me so I spend a few hours simply laying on the bed thinking about my life and my next goals and how I can accomplish them.
Man…I wanna go out.
I call the tenderoni Byron, remember him? He’s Tamara’s fiance’s little cousin.
“Yeahhh…” he answers the phone.
“Are you at home?”
“No, I’m still at work.”
“Are you going out tonight?”
“Uh…probably not mayne. You trying to go out?”
“Yeah, I’m lonely.”
“Call your girl Kim.”
“Her lazy ass. She aint going nowhere.”
“What about your co workers?”
“I dont know them like that.”
“What about your readers and internet friends.”
“I can’t call them and ask them to hang out with me like that,” I say. “I still haven’t met any of the Atlanta people. Aww…you make me sick. I’ll figure it out.”
“Gajejkkm,” he says.
“Hekjien,” he says again.
“Oh, that must be that male code talk that I don’t understand yet. I’ll figure it out one day.”
He laughs. “Aaaaaaaaiiighhht.”
He hangs up.
That boy is crazy.
I call my sorority sister Genevieve. “Hey girl, I’m thinking I want to go out.”
“Where are you trying to go?” she asks.
“Um. I only know of one club. That Vegas Nights place. I went there last week.”
“Girl, are you sure? That’s not really our style.”
“I know but I don’t wanna stay in. You feel up to it?”
“Okay. I’ll go. What time you wanna leave?”
“I’ll pick you up at midnight.”
Ofcourse I get lost on the way to her place. She lives in Smyrna too but her ass can’t give directions to save her life and I can’t follow directions to save mine but I smile when I see the Gamma Sigma Sigma tags on her car and I Lugh when I read the ‘ ~heart~ PUBLIX’bumper sticker. She works in the corporate office for Publix.
We go into her place and I look around. She proudly shows me a picture of her man. That chick knows she is in love! LOL!
Ofcourse I hand her the keys to my car. I hate driving. People hate riding with me while I drive. The only logical thing to do is let her drive.
She finds the club quickly and we find parking and walk down the street to stand in the long line. The club is free. The Black people are plentiful and the women are scanned with metal detectors, our purses are searched and the men are patted down before we are allowed to enter.
“Ok, Jean,” I call her (John) because I like to call her that. “Tonight we are gonna get tipsy and dance, dance, dance.”
“Ok,” she says. “Judging from the looks of this place I have to get right to be up in here. How about we take a shot of patron?”
Patron? I heard of it. Never had it before. Why not?
We order two shots of patron and toast before gulping it down and shimmying to the dance floor.
Now I’ma be honest. It’s cool to be out and hear the songs like ‘Lean Wit’ It, Rock Wit’ It’. I enjoy doing the shoulder lean. I also take pleasure in snapping my fingers and shaking my hips doing the pool palace. I like doing that motorcycle dance they do to that one song. Hey, it’s all fun.
But um…why the hell don’t they play any other songs besides Atlanta artists?!!!
I want to shake my ASS! My ASS people! I’m from Miami dammit. Not a damn booty shake song all night!
Genevieve is from Miami too and before we know it we are both yawning on the dance floor.
“Let’s go get another drink,” she suggests. It will liven us up.”
“Ok,” I say as we head back to the bar. She orders two cranberry and vodkas and we sashay back to the dance floor. This is when things get interesting.
About 10 minutes later, everything is looking real nice. The guys have gotten cuter. The music is heavenly and we are both hugging and swaying on the dance floor as guys try to dance with us.
I feel like we are in college again! We can’t stop laughing! This whole club is so funny to us! All these guys are dancing with us and we keep laughing at them!
One guy tells me he is from Africa. I roll my eyes. “Hell no!” No African men for me ever again. Once they put it down, you will find yourself sitting outside of their house in your car with your two kids wondering when you turned into a stalker.
We dance and dance until the music ends. We try to compose ourselves as we follow the crowd exiting the club. I don’t understand. We only had two drinks each. We’re not rookies. Why the hell are we so..um…tipsy?
We hold each other and walk to the car. I can hear men yelling obscenities at us. “You bald headed bitch!” one yells at me. I don’t even look back. Some guys notice us walking stiffly to our car and they walk with us, asking us not to drive home.
“Take the keys from her,” one guy says to me.
“Huh? She’s the designated driver. I can’t drive. I had two drinks.”
“Don’t worry,” Genevieve says slowly and flops into the drivers seat. “We won’t leave. We’ll rest a minute.”
“Okay, be safe,” the guys say to us and watch as we both settle in, close and lock our doors.
“Just rest a minute,” she says and I hear her seat as it reclines.
I follow her lead and recline my seat and close my eyes.
When I open them again the sun is shining through my dark tints. I see Genevieve stir in the drivers seat. She sits up and looks at me. We look out the window.
We’re still parked outside the club. It’s almost 7am.
“Ok,” she says quickly ans buckles her seat belt. “Let’s go back to my house and finish this nap.”
We make it back to her house quickly and dive under the covers. The alarm rings at 9:30 and I sit up. “Aiight chick, I’ll holla.”
I’m feeling a little rested but my head is killing me. I would go home and sleep the morning away but I promised this woman I met that we’d hang out this morning and I have an event to cover at 3pm. I look at my phone and she has already called me.
I laugh and call her back.
I met this chick on the first day (well..only day) I went out job hunting. She worked at the first place I went to. She is a corporate recruiter. We vibed immediately that day and I told her that I would email her my resume and come back later to finish my skills testing. She seemed really chill. She told me that she was working on her 3rd masters degree. I was like, Dammmmn! Cuz you know I ain’t NEVUH going back to school!
So when I got my job offer the very next day I emailed her and told her that I wouldn’t be back because I found a job but it was nice to meet her and thanks for the help so far. She emailed me back with her phone number saying that we should hang out sometime and I was like, ‘Cool.’
So we planned to get our cars washed together and grab some food and check out the movie Idlewild.
After getting lost, yet AGAIN, I finally found her place in Buckhead and as we cruised downtown to this amazing car detailing place called Cactus, we chatted over the phone and she told me that she was a divorced single mom with a 13 year old daughter and she owned 3 houses out here and was from New York. She told me about her ex hubby and her current guyfriend. We chatted very easily as if we’ve known each other for years.
By the time we got to Cactus we were cool as hell. We left our cars and went over to this gyro place to eat. By the end of the meal I could barely keep my eyes open because my head hurt so much.
But I managed to go back to Cactus, pick up my car and follow her part way back to Buckhead.
“I’m not feeling well,” I tell her using the speakerphone option on my cell while I attempt to drive. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“Ok, let’s pull over then. That might be the best thing for you to do.”
And I did. I handled that.. Over and over again.
Now I’m better.
We’re supposed to meet up tonight to check out a reggae spot she says she wants to take me to. I want Kim to come but I can’t find her black ass…
I hope we have a good time.