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.
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.