This weekend was AMAZING. Even more so because I had been so anxious about it.
For his birthday, Ben had received free VIP passes to the Atlanta night club The Opera. We decided to stay in a hotel in Midtown which was just a block away from the club. We had a corner suite with a balcony on the fifteenth floor which had a great view.
Then, we started with a little pre-game.
Mary was the MVP as far as pre-game went. Actually, for all around. She tucked a hip flask in her bra and was pouring drinks from it all night long WITHOUT TAKING IT OUT. She would just take the cap off and bend over while pouring the contents of the flask into a glass. I don’t know what section of a resume that fits under but it is definitely an enviable skill. At some point during this display, a girl approached Mary and asked her who did her boob job. She replied, “God.”
I know this will come as a shocker to you, dear reader, but I do not frequent the club scene with any regularity. This is the best picture I have of the inside of Opera which featured several stripper poles for any ladies who feel the need to use props when they dance. I quickly learned that there was no way a girl could dance in there without guys acting like they were in the middle of a ping pong game where their pelvis acted as the paddle. A girl could receive a seriously compromised tail bone in that place.
The moment when I really realized I was seriously out of my element was when this tattooed covered gentleman came up to Ben and they started comparing tattoos. He showed us his front and back and kept pushing down at his waist band. I was so thankful we were in a public place. Of course, that was when he whipped out his cell phone and continued the pictorial tour of the tattoos on his nether regions. As I was sitting there trying to avert my eyes as a strange man showed me pictures of his penis with the words “The Boss” tattooed on it I thought, “I sure hope my mom doesn’t ask me about my weekend.”
At one point a guy came up and asked me to dance. I declined. Ben was like, “What? Look at this man’s watch. He’s clearly a fine gentleman.” Later Ben said, “He had a very angular face. I could tell he wasn’t American. I’m not going to lie – he was beautiful. I would have danced with him!”
We stayed there right up until closing and then shuffled back to the hotel room where 1,2 .. two of the three fellas dropped
Ben actually requested I take the picture of him. He slurred, “I am like David Hasselhoff! I need to be shamed!” Thankfully, there were no cheeseburgers present. Once he was down, he was down for the count so I wrapped him up in a blanket and he slept there for what was left of the night. This morning he was still a little wobbly.
But we finally made it back home this afternoon. I have a family member who watches our apartment and our dogs while we’re gone, and they ALWAYS clean while we’re away (without me asking or expecting them to.) Obviously, this is one of my favorite people in the world. So even if we did have to return to the real world at least it was a freshly dusted and vacuumed one.