Remembering Memorial Day

I knew that I was going to South Beach for Memorial Weekend but honestly, I wasn’t feeling it. I’m not into large crowds and I’m not the type of chick that HAS to be on every scene. I’m not into scouting for ballers, celebrities or sponsors and I don’t like to post up and talk about how people look. A fun evening for me is having a few of my girlfriends over and we drink until we can’t stop laughing. I’m definately a homebody.

But ofcourse my bestfriend Tamara was coming into town and she is the peer pressure queen. She will make you feel like you are ruining all of HER fun if you don’t go along with her plans and that SUCKS! LMAO! As much as I hate it, most times I give in. Ahh, the crazy things we do for love…

So this weekend I knew that my sorority sister Tonya would be coming down with Tamara. I’m kinda weird, I know, but I wasn’t really excited about seeing them. I mean, I mentioned before that I’m a low maintenance friend and I only need to hang out with you maybe once or twice a year and talk on the phone with you once a month. I’m not needy. I have too many friends for daily chit chat.

And I talk to Tonya and Tamara at least twice a week. I feel like I see them all the time! LOL! I am so mean! But ofcourse when Tamara called me to tell me to meet her at her house at 11pm I shrugged and hopped out of my bed.

Standing in front of my closet I felt a huge headache coming on. No new outfit, no money to go out and buy a new skirt or a new top to mix with an old piece so I had to be creative. My little sister Teenie watched as I threw piece after piece on my bed, trying to pull something together. I had already gotten a general consensus of what everyone would be wearing.

Tamara, who had been on South Beach all day and was STILL krunk about going back in the evening was adamant about getting into a club.

“We are going to get into SOMEWHERE tonight!” she announced confidently. “So dress to get into the club.”

Let’s look at the facts, ma’am.

Miami + Memorial Weekend + Thousands of Black people + celebrities = No chance in hell of getting into a club without paying an arm and a leg.

“Well Prince,” I quickly told her. “I have $5 to my name.”

“Oh, well I got you. We’ll drink at my house beforehand. Just get dressed.”

“What are you wearing? Are you gonna be dressy with a dress or cute with a skirt? Pants and halter top or casual cute?”

“Jeans and a cute top. Everyone is doing jeans and a cute top and you can borrow one of mine if you want to.”

“Girl, I can NOT wear your clothes.” Tamara is a size 4. Yeah right.

“Yes you can. If Paula can wear my tops then you can.”

“Yeah, thanks Prince, I can figure it out from here. Call me when you’re almost done getting dressed and I’ll be over there.”

Back to my closet. Back to my dilemma.

Now I haven’t shopped in MONTHS so I’m not really feeling anything that I am seeing. There is only ONE pair of jeans in my closet that make me look like I have some booty, and they are actually some really wide legged capri’s.

Bling! I would definately be wearing these tonight.

So now for a top. Let’s see, a good sized selection, but how do I want to hurt’em tonight.

Sparkly? Naw. Cleavage? Naw. I know! Off the shoulders and sheer. I have the perfect black top.

Hmm.. I think to myself as I look at my outfit lying across the bed. Sheer black top and wide legged jean capri’s. Pretty simple. Let’s liven it up.

I walk over to my accessory chest and sort through all my fake bling bling. I choose a belt that is made of circles with turquoise stones in each one of them. I find the shoes that match the belt and I find some simple circle hoop earrings.

Ok, good. I think this will work.

Shower, shave and lotion down. Paint the toe nails and let them dry while I iron my jeans. Underwear tonight? Um, no. I’ve gained a little weight and I don’t want the top of my thongs to show in case my shirt slips up.

Slip on the my top and my jeans and carefully hang my belt with the fringes on my right hip. I do a little shimmy to see them swing and I slip into my wedge heels.

Now for the REAL fun! MAKEUP!

I love wearing makeup. It makes me feel polished and all grown up. And it really makes me look a lot better.

Tonight I’m wearing just a silver shadow as my base color and sparkly powder blue as my eyelid color. I line my eyes with black liner. Very dramatically so that my eye color really pops and I line my lips with a dark berry liner and some dark berry lip gloss then I add a coat of wet shine lip gloss to make it sparkle.

Damn. I look goood!

A quick brush of powder to tone down the concealer that I have to wear because I have raccoon eyes and I’m posing in front of the mirror like a supermodel.

My phone rings and it’s Prince (Tamara). “Where are you girl?”
“I’m on my way chick.”

Spritz on the perfume. Yep, I’m STILL wearing the Opium until I can afford the perfume I really want. But it works nicely with my body’s natural fragrance.

Hmm. “Glasses or no glasses?” I ask my little sister.
I put them on and take them off for her.

“Glasses.” she says. “It adds a little something.”
“Man, that’s messed up witha girl looks better WITH her glasses than without em.” I laugh.

Hop into my ride and call my other bestfriend, Anna.

“I’m getting gas by your Mama’s house. I’ll be there in a few.”

Yay! I get to hang out with BOTH of my bestfriends in one night. Lucky me!

I reach Tamara’s house and all of the lights are out.

Hmmm? Is this some sort of surprise party for me? I look around for cars that I recognize.

Tamara answers the door and I peek in. Damn, just a bunch of chicks standing around a couple of bottles of liquor.

“We were waiting on you Tee, let’s go!” Tamara says and walks over to the make shift bar.

I hug my sorority sister and Toya, a cool chick I met in Tallahassee and I am introduced to Nay and Tamika. I can tell that everyone is checking my outfit out. I don’t care, I know I look good.

“Damn,” I remark. “Tamara, Tonya, Toya, Tamika and Tee. That’s a lot of T’s.”

“Dark or light?” Tamara asks and she points to the bottles on the counter.

“Light.”

She pours everyone a shot and we all smile and hit it.

Then we hit another.

Anna calls and says she has a headache and is waiting outside for us so in honor of my ailing friend, I take her shot.

We all walk out into the heat and I giggle when I see my dawg Anna. “I’m riding with Anna.” I announce.

We make our usual stop at the same gas station for chewing gum and black and milds. For some reason when my friends wanna be dangerous, they cop blacks and puff.

Then we’re OFF!

No more than 10 minutes into our ride we notice that traffic is horrible. The exit to South Beach is packed and we’re right in the middle of it all.

We finally make it down to South Beach but the cars are barely moving. At this point it’s 1 a.m. and we’ve been sitting in traffic for an HOUR. Traffic is going so slowly that I pull myself up and out the window and sit down in the windorframe and start waving to people. I hear cheering coming from Tamara’s truck and my sister Tonya’s head pokes up through the sunroof.

People are honking at us and waving and we’re blowing kisses at guys. We’re passing the bottle back and forth between cars because there is absolutely nothing else to do while we are stuck in traffic.

It’s a little after 2 a.m. and we finally find a parking spot.

We tighten up and get goin to find the parties.

Now it’s Memorial Day Weeking in Miami but ain’t nobody trying to remember the soldiers. Errybody trying to holla at errybody. The streets are crazy with Black people and Spanish people walking the strip with their video camera’s. Most of the people that we meet are from New York. New Yorkers love Miami for some reason. And in Miami we think New York is like another planet.

We can’t walk a few steps without hearing a comment about the way we look.

Overall the men were nice to me. I was called Unique, Beautiful and Sexy. Most of my compliments come because of my hair, believe it or not. Now this one was funny as hell, one guy said, “You look very intelligent tonight.” Now what the hell am I suppose to do with that? Does that mean you want me to do your book report or somethin?

But ofcourse the assholes were out in full affect. Why come a man resorts to insults if you don’t give him no play?

“Hey, wuzzup Red. You looking sexy tonight.” An asshole says to me as I’m walking the strip.
“Thanks.”
“It’s like that?”
Me looking at him confused. “Huh?”
“That’s okay with yo baldheaded ass! Yo fade tighter than mine!”
“It sure is, you need to hook up with my barber, he’ll do you right.”

I have finally decided that all men are just tall boys. ~rolling eyes~

I’m enjoying the night air and we have no real destination. The object of the night (in my mind) is to meet some cuties and flirt.

But I’m having no luck. No one is cute to me.

We all sit down outside of a juice bar and chat while the men attack. If you stand still for too long you’ll be sure to draw a crowd. Most of the girls are complaining that their feet hurt but i’m okay. I wore comfortable shoes; wedges. Wedges don’t make my feet hurt like stilettos. I can walk in them for a long time and still feel great. They are open toed so my toes aren’t squished and just very very comfortable.

I roll my eyes at the men walking by.

I lean over to Anna. “Girl, I’m upset. Nobody out here is my type.”
She looks and me with a smirk. “That’s because you think you’re too cute for everyone out here.”
I laugh. Maybe she’s right. While I’m giggling I glance behind us and notice that a man is sitting at our table smiling at me.

Bingo!

Hmm.. He looks like…

I nudge Anna and she looks at him too. He’s still smiling.

“Who does he look like Anna?”

“He looks like… um… He looks like Morris Chestnutt.”

Yeah, he sure does.

No, he’s not the REAL Morris Chestnutt, but he will certainly do.

“Well hello handsome.” I say and turn around.

“Hello to you too.” he says and leans forward.

Damn, he’s deep chocolate with a PERFECT smile.

We proceed to stare each other down while throwing out our best lines. I feel like it’s a “smooth talk” battle. And no one is losing. He’s matching me in wit, sexiness and boldness. I’m impressed. But damn, he’s a college student. ~sigh~ Came from Orlando. ~sigh~ And to make matters worse, he’s a Kappa. ~double sigh~ Never met a Kappa that was sincere.

We’re deep in flirt mode, daring each other to show more interest, feeding off of the deep mutual attraction and I’m biting my lip to keep from telling him that he’s coming home with me.

I feel a hand on my leg and hear a squeaky voice, “GIRL! YOU READY TO GO?!!” It’s one of the chicks on my group.

Hell naw! I think. But I figure now is a good time to get away from him, it’ll end our little game and see if he’s all talk and no action. Will he ask for the number?

I stand up and pull down my shirt. I put my purse under my arm and turn around to face him. He quickly hops from behind the table and is by my side.

If he comes any closer I will BITE HIM! Mmm,mmm.

“Hey, it was nice meeting you Philip.”

“Yes it was. I would love to keep in touch with you. Is it okay if I got your number?”

YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

I whisper my number in his ear as he puts it into his phone. He gives me a hug and I am floating away… My girls give smile at me as I walk back to the group.

“Girl, he was cute!” They say.
“Hell yeah! What you expect?!” LOL!

The rest of the night is a blur. I’m trippin cuz Tamara has an attitude out of this world. And the wild thing about that is Tamara NEVER has an attitude. She is always so cool. But she says her feet were on fire and the men were annoying her and she felt like crying so she could NOT have a good time.

I met another cutie, Marcus and one who wasn’t that cute, I forget his name, but turns out he owns a Mortgage Broker Firm, or either he got fake business cards made up. So sorry, no ballers, no celebrities and no flashing lights. Just me and my girls enjoy the warm night air and feeling like stars as we walked the strip on South Beach. That was my Memorial Day experience. I don’t plan to go back again.

I finally climbed into bed a little after 6am and ofcourse my sons woke up at 7 am climbing all over me. I’m surprised they didn’t get orange juice in their cereal as tired as I was up in the kitchen trying to make some damn breakfast.

But I survived- just in time to go out again- this time on a date.

Details manana… I’m tired.