Sunday has always seemed well deserving of the title "Sunday Fun Day". For me and my "industry" friends, Sundays are usually the start of our party, because we all work at bars over the real weekends. This Sunday was no different. The day began with mimosas and bloodies at Lulu's and took off from there. After consuming all of the champagne and vodka that our bodies could (at least that's what our waitress said) we left Lulu's and headed down to River Street to indulge in the multiple flavors of frozen drinks at Wet Willies.
The weather was such a change from Friday and Saturday, so we couldn't resist driving the convertible to the beach and continue our day full of booze. After sucking down raw oysters and a few shots, it was time to hit downtown yet again. By the time we reached City Market our buzz was in full swing, and what better way to keep it going then attending a drag show at Club One; free admission, free pool, and men dressed as women!
We all exchanged twenties for singles and perched our sloshed selves at a table in the front row. Another round of drinks and shots were order just as the the lights dimmed. Men dressed up in bold colors, big wigs, and tacky jewelry flooded the stage while belting out Shakira. The strobe lights and disco balls were in full swing, making it hard for me to distinguish if the lights or the performers were more colorful. All different shapes and sizes of drags took turns at center stage, including a massive blog of sparkles, studs, and stars shaking both Cindy Lauper and the floor boards. The strobe light kept up with the beat, as did the consumption of our drinks.
Before I knew it, the stage was empty of cross dressers and all that was left on our table was teetering towers of glasses. This meant it was time for a refreshed cocktail, so I picked up my wallet and headed towards the bar. Most of my friends looked a bit too tipsy for another shot, so I only bought two shots of Jack, one for myself and the other for Tara, my coworker. Tara knew by the look on my face that the other shot was her's so she proceeded to stand up and walk toward me. She was only about two feet away, with arms outstretched, when her four inch platforms gave way, causing her to loose balance. My hands were full with drinks so I couldn't reach to help her from hitting the floor. She simply reached toward me, missing my arms, and grabbed ahold of my yellow tube dress.
Tara never hit the floor, nor did the drinks, what fell was my dress. Standing there for a split second, breasts exposed, drinks in hand, I found myself confused. Drop the drinks and grab my dress, or chug the shot then pick up the dress. I chose the later. Just as I slammed the Jack and returned my dress to its rightful place, a bouncer walked up to me. He wasn't happy and told us we had to leave immediately. I knew not to ask why. I choose to follow orders and Tara and I shamefully headed up the stairs and out the door.
Lesson learned... I will wear a bra next time.
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