I've been fighting off this cold all week, popping vitamin C, drinking gallons of orange juice while putting in 12-hour days at the office. Today was such a luxury -- sleeping in, napping and more napping. But, I hauled my butt out of the house to wish a dear friend happy birthday. I rarely see Doris and the others what with their kids and my work schedule, so I made a special effort to get out to see them.
What I didn't really consider was that meet-up time wasn't going to be until 10:30PM. Why should that matter? Well, if I had considered the other factors I may have been a bit more prepared for what I was getting into -- the other girls had rented a limo (I opted to drive myself), they had roped their husbands and others into watching their respective kids and the the rendevous point was a suburban "night club."
Maybe it's because it's been awhile since I've gone "clubbing," but I was not prepared for the long lines, music at inhumane decibels and limited elbow room. It also didn't help that I wandered, or rather squeezed, through the club several times without being able to find the girls (all the while thinking, why are all these people here and do they really think this is fun?!).
An unsuccessful texting attempt resulted in me relying on the kindness of some overeagerly helpful men in order to try and find the pieces of my cell phone that scattered when I dropped it whilst messaging a plea for some direction in that mayhem. After about a half hour of shoving through the throngs without any success I managed to work my way out the front door and into the parking lot. I made one last-ditch attempt to locate the birthday girl with a phone call, which worked except that meant I had to wait in what was now a longer line to get back into the hellhole that was making my cloudy head worse. Clearly, I stood out like a sore thumb still bundled in my coat and scarf while the other patrons were very much enjoying themselves dancing, drinking, mingling and ogling -- most sans sleeves and laden with costume jewelry.
Now, I love to dance. I require not a drop of alcohol and usually just start going if there's a beat. But tonight, I just couldn't feel it. All I wanted to do was to get out of there ... so that's what I did. Yes, I'm horrible, but I just couldn't stay. Gave Doris a big hug, promised her dinner in the future, waved to the other girls and was out of there like a bat out of hell. I'd like to blame it on this cold, but I really do think that I've just aged out of that scene.
I'm so much happier now that I'm home and in my flannel pjs, wrapped in my fleece robe with my furry feline friend on my lap. Doesn't get much lamer than that, now does it?!