The most un-romantic engagement in Palm Beach history.

I was standing out side of a bustling party, watching a coat rack with a single coat on it.  I had been there for an hour.  First of all, we are in South Florida, practically in Cuba for that matter.   Why, oh why, do we have a coat rack.  Second of all, am I really getting paid for this?  Let me check … I am.

The owner of that single coat was inside the ballroom, attending the most ridiculous birthday party of all time.  The room was decorated floor to ceiling in sparkling rhinestone covered fabric.  There were fifteen disco balls spinning over the dance floor, and the flowers probably cost more than a semester of college tuition.  It was amazing, it was glorious, it was breathtaking, and it was all for some 30 something year olds birthday.  It wasn’t even a significant birthday like 40 or 50, just…30 somthing.  I can only imagine what her birthday was like when she turned 21.

So I was standing there tapping my loafer covered toes to the beat of the band, when a man comes falling out of the doorway.

He just about face plants when he caught his balance, and somehow manages to focus on me.   This man was more drunk than your Aunt Lisa on Christmas right after her dog FoFo died.  RIP FoFo.

Anyways, his red glassy eyes met mine and he slurs out ‘Which way to the Ocean?”

“East,” I replied. 

“Huh?” he farts out of his mouth.

“It’s this way sir,” I reply, and 5 star gestured with my hand toward the Atlantic.

He wobbles his way back into the party and yells ‘Tina!’

Emerges a blond, with shoes so tall they would make a midget look average height.

He leans all of his weight on her, and they make their way outside.

Oh man… he is going out their to hurl.  Sick.

I look around for a supervisor, or a mop, something to take care of this vomit catastrophe that was about to erupt.

I didn’t see anyone or anything, so I just continued my job of standing and existing. Sigh.

Then, the drunk man and his arm candy return from outside.

I look for traces of puke on his tuxedo … but instead something sparkly catches my eye.

An engagement ring.

Mr. Alcoholic Anonymous had stumbled out to the ocean side … to propose.

Really?

Not exactly every girls dream, that when the man dips to one knee he topples over and dry heaves.

But, nonetheless, she looked happy.

Drunk McGee stumbles over to me and shoves Tina’s hand under my nose, smelling of whisky.

‘Look…  burp…what I did!” he gargles out.

“Ohhh…. ahh… ” I exclaim.  “Congratulations!” I mutter, trying not to burst out laughing.

I can’t believe this just happened.  I would have offered them a complimentary bottle of champagne … but I thought … mmm… maybe not.

This is the end of this story, and the beginning of a long, drunken marriage.

<3

Grandma, daughter, and cheating buisness man take fall.

Then after the show its the after party… And after the party its the hotel lobby.”  -The Wise R Kelly

Oh drunks.  There was a man, clad in his gold wedding ring and best business suit, leaning up against the bar… clearly  flirting with a woman who was in no way his wife, and, her mother. Not just the daughter…but both. Ew.  They were at the after party of some event, so he had already been overly wined and dined all night.  But since he was leaning up on the bar, and could some what control his speech, the extent of his inhalation was not yet visible, so onward and upward with the wine pour! 

But then, best said in the words of Semisonic…

“Closing time
Open all the doors and let you out into the world
Closing time
Turn all of the lights on over every boy and every
girl
Closing time
One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or
beer
Closing time
You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here”

 

I don’t know why I keep quoting old school songs…but I like it.

Anyways, closing time.

The man props himself off the bar, and begins to walk….horizontally.

Literally this man defied gravity.  He was swerving like a drunk on I-95. No lies….he probably made 7 laps around the room before making it to the door…

Seeing his inebriation, the ladies he was lusting for (collectively)  allowed him to lean on them as they tried to steer him out  of the ballroom.  But as they walked out the door, literally all of the servers in the room perked there heads  up like meercats, and ran to the door. We knew what was about to happen.  We knew.

We knew …that right outside of the room was …..STAIRS. Cue Beethoven’s Fifth.

And this big drunk baboon with the middle age and elderly women on his arms was heading right for it.

One step, two steps, aaaanddddddddddddd……..

 cue WIPE OUT.  The man went head first down stairs, taking the ladies with him.  Oh and on his way down he made sure to smash his noggin into the cement wall. oucchh.

So, the ladies and the buffoon were flattened, in the middle of one of the classiest hotels in America.

A true moment of pride for that married business trip attender.  I bet he received a promotion after this class act evening.

sigh.

Yet another shift….