 Dan and I went out to dinner and dancing with friends last weekend. We met them at one of our local RSLs (Retired Serviceman's League) where they serve good quality Chinese food, and we all imbibed a drink or two before moving out to the dance floor. There were five of us there, and I was looking forwards to getting up on the dance floor with "the girls." The guys don't dance - even though Dan is quite the good disco dancer.
We found a table and ordered more drinks. The three women got up to dance. We worked up a sweat and had a great time. I was gleefully thinking about the calories I was burning, and tried to refrain from too much alcohol.
As the night wore on, the men continued to ply the women with alcohol. Dan admitted that he wanted to see me drunk. I have never been drunk in my life and I wasn't about to start, but apparently, after two drinks, I become a klutz.
No - that is an excuse. I am always a klutz.
Well, the evening wore on and everyone got a bit happier and more tired. The men got silly and starting making court shots down the women's tops with ice cubes. Dan took a shot at the woman seated next to me, and the ice cube landed on the table. Coming to her rescue, I brushed the ice cube away before Dan could recover it, and on the back hand, I knocked over a full drink - right into the lap of my friend whom I was trying to rescue. I was mortified.
I helped her blot up the rum and Coke which was now down the front of her jeans, and I felt about two inches tall. She kept saying "dont' worry about it, don't worry. It's OK. It was an accident."
Visions of acting like an idiot flashed across my mind, and although I was very sober, I kept thinking that everyone around me must think I'm completely trashed.
My friend came back a minute later and her jeans were completely dry - as if nothing had happened. They were new and full of sizing and the drink had completely beaded up and rolled off.
Damn. I want a pair of jeans like that. For protection against myself.Labels: disco, klutz |
posted by Melanie O. at 
