(no subject)
I did it. I went out and stayed out and had a sleepover in the city. It was good.
A friend from work was turning 29 (hey, remember when I turned 29? Me neither- it was friggin EIGHT YEARS AGO), and the plan was to meet at Berlin http://www.berlinchicago.com/ at 9, stay for the drag show at 10 and dance for as long as our feet would hold up. I had so many old woman/mom dilemmas, including, but not limited to: which purse will fit my breast pump, tooth brush, change of clothes for tomorrow and a pair of flats for that point in the night where I can't wear heels a second longer? Wait- are heels still cool to wear out, and can I still dance in them? What should I wear? What if we go to another club after Berlin- will they even let me in wearing this? Can I transfer from the Metra to the red line at 9:30pm by myself without danger? Should I pay way too much for drinks or bring purse drinks? Can I handle purse drinks at this point- what's my tolerance? How do I use these breast-milk alcohol test strips? Is is too late to ask Shana to purchase a memory foam contour pillow? What if V misses me uncontrollably? What if I miss her inconsolably?
My original plan was to take the Metra to 35th street and transfer to the red line to get to the club. My friend A from work texted me and said she could drive me in if I got off the train in Tinley Park, which is only four stops from my house. I thought, "Great, I'll have company on the way in, I won't have to walk in alone, and I don't have to worry about sketchy people." Unfortunately, A turned out to be sketchy. She's a great person, but a huge party girl. We stopped for gas and I said something about buying a beer and chugging it in the bathroom. She said that I could drink it in the car, and that she had a drink in there. I thought, "Cool, we both have purse drinks." It wasn't until we were almost there that she offered me some of the soda she had been drinking during the ride and disclosed that it was Sprite and Vodka. Maybe you'll roll your eyes at me, but I've been in way too many crashes to even think about drinking and driving, much less drinking WHILE driving. And if that doesn't scandalize you, she also sparked it up on Lake Shore drive, again while driving. I asked her if she wasn't worried about being arrested, and what exactly her plan was if she got pulled over. She said that she didn't carry a lot so she would only get a ticket. I asked her about DUI and she didn't have as quick of an answer. She actually seemed never to have given it much thought. Never again. I'll take my chances with the train.
We arrived around 9:30, and the club was empty. The birthday girl and her crew arrived about 20 unites later, and the place filled up in time for the show. The host was sarcastic and funny, and what I'm used to from drag in NYC, but the show itself was all lone performers lip-syncing with people holding dollars up like a strip club, which I'd never seen in a drag show.
Then we danced. Boy, did we dance. As in, from midnight to 2:30am, I logged over 20,000 steps. There was decent music, and good company. We made lots of fun dance floor friends, though of course there were some aggressive straight guy poachers. Ugh. Clearly, dude, I did not come out to a gay club to get sweated on by some neanderthal with a half-chub.
At three, we fled the poachers and went practically next door to Cheesies, a light night miracle grilled cheese place. One of the guys from the club followed us and I will say that "I'm married" is a very effective shut-down technique. There was another guy in the restaurant that was joking with us, and my old-lady-ness surfaced again when, at the end of the meal, he handed me his phone. It could've been the time of night (morning), or the drinks, or the fact that I haven't been out out for almost 2 years, but when this guy wordlessly handed me his phone, I stupidly pressed some buttons and handed it back to him. He looked at the screen, handed it to me again, and I spelled out 80085 (hahaha- boobs!), wondering if he had forgotten his unlock code. The third time it finally clicked. "Are you asking me for my number?" I said, like the crack behavior analyst I am. He nodded with a smile, and I told him I was married. And an idiot. Let's not forget that part.
We took an Uber back to Shana's place (another development since my dormancy), and went to bed around 4:30. I was woken up around 11am by Shana's cat on my face. Carey had already driven in with V and was waiting in the car. He came up, I nursed V, and Becky, Shana, Carey, V and I went to brunch at the Yolk (not linking because although passable I wouldn't recommend it). I just kept looking from my friends to my husband to my baby thinking that I'd had the best of both worlds that weekend. How lucky I am.
A friend from work was turning 29 (hey, remember when I turned 29? Me neither- it was friggin EIGHT YEARS AGO), and the plan was to meet at Berlin http://www.berlinchicago.com/ at 9, stay for the drag show at 10 and dance for as long as our feet would hold up. I had so many old woman/mom dilemmas, including, but not limited to: which purse will fit my breast pump, tooth brush, change of clothes for tomorrow and a pair of flats for that point in the night where I can't wear heels a second longer? Wait- are heels still cool to wear out, and can I still dance in them? What should I wear? What if we go to another club after Berlin- will they even let me in wearing this? Can I transfer from the Metra to the red line at 9:30pm by myself without danger? Should I pay way too much for drinks or bring purse drinks? Can I handle purse drinks at this point- what's my tolerance? How do I use these breast-milk alcohol test strips? Is is too late to ask Shana to purchase a memory foam contour pillow? What if V misses me uncontrollably? What if I miss her inconsolably?
My original plan was to take the Metra to 35th street and transfer to the red line to get to the club. My friend A from work texted me and said she could drive me in if I got off the train in Tinley Park, which is only four stops from my house. I thought, "Great, I'll have company on the way in, I won't have to walk in alone, and I don't have to worry about sketchy people." Unfortunately, A turned out to be sketchy. She's a great person, but a huge party girl. We stopped for gas and I said something about buying a beer and chugging it in the bathroom. She said that I could drink it in the car, and that she had a drink in there. I thought, "Cool, we both have purse drinks." It wasn't until we were almost there that she offered me some of the soda she had been drinking during the ride and disclosed that it was Sprite and Vodka. Maybe you'll roll your eyes at me, but I've been in way too many crashes to even think about drinking and driving, much less drinking WHILE driving. And if that doesn't scandalize you, she also sparked it up on Lake Shore drive, again while driving. I asked her if she wasn't worried about being arrested, and what exactly her plan was if she got pulled over. She said that she didn't carry a lot so she would only get a ticket. I asked her about DUI and she didn't have as quick of an answer. She actually seemed never to have given it much thought. Never again. I'll take my chances with the train.
We arrived around 9:30, and the club was empty. The birthday girl and her crew arrived about 20 unites later, and the place filled up in time for the show. The host was sarcastic and funny, and what I'm used to from drag in NYC, but the show itself was all lone performers lip-syncing with people holding dollars up like a strip club, which I'd never seen in a drag show.
Then we danced. Boy, did we dance. As in, from midnight to 2:30am, I logged over 20,000 steps. There was decent music, and good company. We made lots of fun dance floor friends, though of course there were some aggressive straight guy poachers. Ugh. Clearly, dude, I did not come out to a gay club to get sweated on by some neanderthal with a half-chub.
At three, we fled the poachers and went practically next door to Cheesies, a light night miracle grilled cheese place. One of the guys from the club followed us and I will say that "I'm married" is a very effective shut-down technique. There was another guy in the restaurant that was joking with us, and my old-lady-ness surfaced again when, at the end of the meal, he handed me his phone. It could've been the time of night (morning), or the drinks, or the fact that I haven't been out out for almost 2 years, but when this guy wordlessly handed me his phone, I stupidly pressed some buttons and handed it back to him. He looked at the screen, handed it to me again, and I spelled out 80085 (hahaha- boobs!), wondering if he had forgotten his unlock code. The third time it finally clicked. "Are you asking me for my number?" I said, like the crack behavior analyst I am. He nodded with a smile, and I told him I was married. And an idiot. Let's not forget that part.
We took an Uber back to Shana's place (another development since my dormancy), and went to bed around 4:30. I was woken up around 11am by Shana's cat on my face. Carey had already driven in with V and was waiting in the car. He came up, I nursed V, and Becky, Shana, Carey, V and I went to brunch at the Yolk (not linking because although passable I wouldn't recommend it). I just kept looking from my friends to my husband to my baby thinking that I'd had the best of both worlds that weekend. How lucky I am.