It was Halloween time, the autumn air was crisp and cool, and colored leaves scattered across the ground. Ok who am I kidding we live in a tropical sauna. The palm trees were bursting with coconuts that have the potential to fall and smash a Lamborghini, the air was still 85 degrees and just humid enough to make my chi-straightened hair curl again, and there were no colored leaves … anywhere.
My friend Coco was asked if she would be a waitress at a private party separate from the hotel. Another server used to work for a woman living on the island, so she recruited a few co-workers to be the woman’s slave for the night.
So Coco gets in her beat up old Plymouth, swings by City Place to pick up Tony, a guy who was also a server recruit for the night, and they putt their butts to the island.
Tony is tall and lanky, with a big adams apple and an addiction to UV rays.. His sun burned nose is always freckled and a pealing just a bit. He has a southern surfer way of talking, and loves kegs of beer. He is not in college but basically fits the stereotype mold of college boy, except has more time to party without class getting in the way.
They turn east on Clark Ave and a couple houses down there it sat, a massive mansion that our dorm room could fit into 50 times. The stare in amazement for a moment, and then step out to begin their nightly endeavor.
See for all us mainlanders, we just gawk at these beautiful houses when we go to the beach, or drive past and show them to our mom when she comes and visits. They are like a mysterious wilderness for us. Big, foreign, and never been entered. Coco and Tony got a glimpse into the forbidden world of the Palm Beach rich. Jealous.
You may remember me telling you about Coco from a previous story, where she somehow managed to get more free makeup than if she modeled for Cover Girl. Coco is that friend that we all have where luck literally sometimes falls onto their lap. As she went to this party on the island, we all sat back in West Palm eating reduced fat Cheez-it’s and laughing at Youtube videos, all the while fantasizing about her Palm Beach endeavors and how we wish we too were on the island in a mansion, even if it’s only to pick up dirty napkins after wealthy people.
They walk inside and are greeted by the hostess. Remember, this is a Halloween party, so naturally you must where a slutty outfit. Cough. The lady hands Coco a tiny little sexy bumble bee costume, you know the one that every girl on Clematis wears Halloween night, thinking it’s original when really it is just degrading. Cough. The lady, who clearly already had been drinking the magic juice, says “Put this on it’s cute! Oh and you can keep it.” Coco looks at her, looks around, then throws the thing over her t-shirt and jeans.
This is why she is my friend, because she rocked the bumble bee over her jeans. That bee costume resurfaced again of course, jeans included, as we all made our way to Fright Night at the South Florida Fair Grounds. Appropriate, a bumble bee being chased by Freddy Krugers with a fake chain-saw. Appropriate.
So Coco and Tony start making the rounds, passing out brie cheese and grapes, or glasses of champagne. Everyone was in their dressed in their costume finest, some of them looking like they walked out of Rachel’s Steakhouse. (A topless little steak joint in West Palm. I swear honey, I go there for the fine dining, they have the best steak around. Just like Hooters across the street has the best wings.) LIES.
Anyways, the night wraps up, and it is about time to go. Coco and her bee butt walk up to the hostess and begin the awkward “Hey there, heading out… where is my money?” run around. The lady by this time has more alcohol in her system than when David Hasselhoff tried to eat a hamburger.
She gives them two white envelopes, kisses Coco on the cheek and Tony a little too close to his mouth. The pair walk out, Coco’s glittery wings blowing in the ocean breeze. They pile back into the junker car and tear open their envelopes. They worked about five hours, so they were expecting around one hundred bucks. They reach in and pull out five crisp $100 bills.
Oh. My. Gosh. That is more money then we make in two weeks work! This is our car payment two times over. This is ridiculous, this is Palm Beach. So they both do a little happy scream, then a happy little car restricted dance. They couldn’t believe their luck (although I can, Coco has magical luck farts coming out of her all the time.)
So after their screams and celebrations, Tony suddenly gets really quiet, and really serious. He looks slowly over at Coco, and stammers,
“Want to make out.”
Coco blinks, her $500 still fresh in her hand. She looks at it, she looks at the mansion, then she looks at sunburned Tony. She blinks again, and says
With that she puts the crap car into reverse, drives back over the bridge to the mainland, drops of Tony and drives back to her dirty apartment.
Singlehandedly the most awkward yet perfect ending to the most awkward and perfect night, on Palm Beach.