Night Out
Tommy called my cell phone around 4:30 pm while Randy and I were doing our P90X exercise program so I didn’t answer. After sweating I checked my phone and he had called, texted, and left a voice message so I knew he had something important to say. His message said, “Call me, we’re going to town!”
Since I didn’t know what the heck that meant, I immediately returned his message with, “What’s up?”
“We’ve rented a limo and ten of us are going into Corpus to see Bob Schneider at Brewster Street. Come with us, I have one ticket left.”
And to entice me even more he added, “We’re gonna’ dance our asses off.”
“Hmmm, who all is going?” I asked, knowing I really love to dance my ass off. This had already cinched the deal, but I was curious.
“Let’s see, Addie (I thought he said Maddie), Kate and Mark, Valerie, Jamie, Eric, Lana (my date, as it turned out), Amanda, me and hopefully, you.” he replied.
I didn’t know more than half those people but that didn’t bother me one little bit. I’ve never met a stranger anyway. So I agreed and thanked him for giving me enough time to get ready for this shindig.
I showered, washed my hair, shaved and put on new “little” clothes and generally made myself presentable. At eight Lana picked me up and we drove to Tommy’s house where the limo awaited. As it turned out the supposed ten people this particular limo was rated to hold didn’t take into account that we aren’t all Barbie and Kens so it was a tight fit and our destination was 45 minutes away. There were nine of us in it already with no room to spare and we still hadn’t picked up Amanda in Aransas Pass. Katie was uncomfortably ensconced on the floor amidst our feet with her legs crossed and assured us she had worn underwear for the occasion, something she apparently doesn’t do on a regular basis. I felt pretty good about that bit of information.
During the ride to Aransas Pass and then into Corpus much alcohol was consumed. There was wine, beer, vodka, limes, ice chests (which didn’t help the roominess much) and who knows what else. Lana had provided me with a nice glass of white wine so we were all fixed up for a night on the town. I couldn’t wait to get there; I had begun to feel somewhat like the proverbial sardine. I was beginning the process of getting to know my fellow partiers while we all laughed, giggled and enjoyed each other’s company.
Upon arrival at Brewster Street we all virtually fell out of the overstuffed limo and stretched our legs. I was ready to begin dancing my ass off. The music I heard sounded great and I was already moving to the music.
Lana and I approached the ticket table and that’s when I discovered I was Lana’s date since her husband had decided to stay home that night. Thank you, Joe, for doing that! We had to show our IDs to the gentleman behind the table and when he looked at mine he said, “That’s a good-looking picture.”
I said something about it not having any choice since I was a good-looking person and he laughed and agreed. It’s interesting how one glass of wine affects my self-confidence. Anyway, we got our armbands and filed up the stairs, people watching us grinned because we were loud, boisterous and obviously having a good time.
We all sort of split up for a while once we got into the building, some went straight to the restrooms, more went straight to the bar and ordered alcoholic beverages. I bought Lana’s drink and my first Bud 55 Select of the evening. We looked around for the other eight and didn’t see them. We discovered them at the front of the stage and it looked like we were going to have a good spot for the evening.
The front band was rocking and I began to sway to the music, oblivious to everyone around me. That’s pretty much what I do when the music suits me. I don’t give a pig’s ear if someone doesn’t like the way I dance. I do it anyway. Usually people join me and if they don’t then it’s their loss! As more and more people arrived for the main event I noticed there were quite a few young people staring at these old farts having such a good time. You’d think we had arms and legs coming out of our ears or something. I didn’t care, still don’t.
Once Bob began his gig we were really having fun. We danced, clapped, giggled and jiggled the night away. We’d break apart and then get back together. One would leave for the restroom or more alcohol and another would move into that spot. Strangers joined us and left, new strangers would arrive and we’d dance and shake hands and then, before you knew it, a new person would be beside you shakin’ what their momma gave ‘em. I think some people decided they wanted to be a part of this fun group of old-timers and would come and go like the tides. At one point some guy who wore a white shirt overstayed his welcome because he started farting and it stunk like a sulfur pit, I kid you not. Over and over again I’d have to hold my nostrils closed, it was bad, really bad. Finally everyone in our group started making gagging noises and pointing at him and he left, thank you ever so much!
I went to the restroom at one point in the evening and as I returned to our strategic position up front some random guy sitting at a table grabbed my ass. I walked a few feet away and then turned around and went back to the culprit. I asked him, “Did you just grab my ass?”
He said, “Yes, yes I did.” He was so drunk he told the truth.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to.” Still speaking truth, obviously.
“OK, you wanted to, but what makes you think that’s an alright thing to do since I don’t know you from Adam?” I queried.
He motioned to the seat beside him so he could explain to me in great detail but I declined and began walking away, still wondering why he thought it a good idea to molest me. He began to follow me and I wasn’t having any of that. I looked at him, held up my wedding ring laden left hand and he responded with, “I’m married too.”
That’s when I realized he was a douche bag. I said to him in a stern voice, “Don’t follow me, seriously!”
Thank goodness he didn’t. I was ready to practice my newly learned P90X Kenpo moves on him if he took one more step. He’s lucky he made the right decision, douche bag.
The rest of the evening was spent dancing, laughing, drinking, and listening to some great, but very loud, music, picture taking, and more dancing. At the end of the show Jamie and I got our picture taken with Bob. I wish I’d gotten Jamie’s phone number or e-mail because now I don’t know how to get a copy of it, but I haven’t given up yet. Where there’s a will there’s a way and I can be tenacious. I'll post it at the bottom here if I ever get it.
On the ride back it was much quieter than the previous one, everyone was tired, drunk (I wasn’t – only had three of those 55 Selects) and danced out. Tommy decided it was time for one of his infamous jokes.
I hope I get this right.
Two guys find themselves in the same cell in prison. The rather large man said to the smaller man, you know, you’re gonna have to put out while you’re in here with me, right?
No, no, I’m not like that, I don’t want to. It’ll hurt too much. I’ve never done anything like that before.
But you have to. I’ll tell you what. If it hurts, moo like a cow and if it feels good just sing.
Oh, alright, I guess that’ll be alright. We’re here for a long time together.
So the big guy begins the process and the little guy yells moooooooo, moooooooooooo, Mooooooooon River.
Ha!
