On Saturday night, I went out with two of my friends to celebrate their successful completion of college in four years. (More than I could do, ladies! Cheers to you!) I agreed to be the Designated Driver because I wanted my friends to drink while I soberly judged their life decisions as they grew more and more inebriated. We were all excited to be together and have a good night.
I slathered on some make-up to create the illusion that I am a beautiful Greek sculpture just radiating natural female beauty. Then, I put together an outfit that I am pretty sure made me look like a three-year-old but I was too lazy to pick out another outfit.
I curled my notoriously difficult hair and the results were so-so. Some curls were Shirley Temple status but other “curls” only had a pathetic kink in their otherwise straight orientation. The lack of uniformity in my curls was not going to stop me though! Thank goodness for dark lighting in bars.
We went to a rooftop bar that we had been to previously and waited in line with the teeming masses. After a relatively short wait, we took the elevator to the roof. When the doors closed, a fellow bar patron asked what floor it the ROOFTOP bar was on.
I couldn’t help myself and answered, “The rooftop bar is on the fourth floor. Duh.”
The guy was a good sport and cleverly deduced that the rooftop bar was probably the highest floor and pressed the correct button. Both of my friends basically melted from embarrassment and probably wished they had chosen a friend who could be trusted in public places.
As we moseyed through the bar, we set up shop in a place where we thought people would approach us and engage us in witty conversation. We sat down on some barstools and chatted amongst ourselves happily. However, when we turned around, the once-crowded space of which we partly occupied was completely cleared out. You could practically hear crickets.
But we would not be deterred! We went to another part of the bar and again, chattered away among ourselves but not more than five minutes later, we cleared out THAT section of the bar, too.
The three of us thought that the first time had been a mere coincidence but twice seemed to be pushing it. We each took a few minutes to make sure that we were not emitting some terrible smell or had somehow gotten tattooed with Nazi insignia without our knowledge. Alas, no. Nothing of the sort.
We decided that if we cleared out another part of the bar, we would just call it a night and leave. So, we carefully chose a place where we were close to lots and lots of people. But wouldn’t you know it, not five minutes later AGAIN, we cleared out that particular section of the bar.
Now, I know you’re asking, “Why didn’t they just go up to people and talk to them?” Normally, I wouldn’t have a problem with this as I enjoy talking to strangers because
I like people these interactions make for great blog posts. But let me tell you, people gave off DON’T-TALK-TO-ME vibes that night and there were crowds of people, yes, but they were chatting in closed circles. I wasn’t about to tunnel my way through these close-knit circles and then pop up in the middle and exclaim, “TALK TO ME, MY PEOPLE!” As much as I may have wanted to.
It was at this point that we left but we wanted to salvage the night. So we tried one more bar. And wouldn’t you know it, it happened again. And so, only two hours into the night, we headed home, defeated.
We told ourselves that weird people were out that night and it was just an “off” night. We tried to console ourselves that we were cool and nice and friendly but it was no use, we hung our heads in defeat.
Can’t win them all.