My First Grown Up Party- A Black Tie Affair

Disclaimer:  I don't run around with a bunch of people conveniently named common stripper names...they have been changed to prevent any embarrassment.

My first grown up party: (December 2009)

I was living in Muskogee, Oklahoma when my friends Roxanne and Ron invited me to my first grown up party. Black tie to all those that don’t know what I mean. My best friend Candy and I committed to going and I booked my flight from Michigan (as my contract was going to end and I’d move home prior to the party). Black tie party of course means shopping for an acceptable ball gown.

I took a weekend and drove to Edmond, OK to shop with my friend Anastasia. I spent an entire day trying on dresses. Some made me look like a squished sausage, others like I was in a garbage sack. I finally settled on a pretty simple black number with blinged out straps that crossed in the back. I wasn’t thrilled but the dress was acceptable and the most flattering of the day.  Since you likely don't know me, I'll just say that it was pretty conservative for me.

Moving day came and went. I was back in Michigan at a bar doing some shots as the Colts were playing in the post season and it was tradition. During the commercials I was bitching about the dress I bought when my friend Electra suggested we go to the shop in town. It’s Sunday and we arrived 20 minutes to closing which meant we had to get busy. I tried about 15 dresses on in 20 minutes. It was efficient and probably hilarious to an onlooker. It went something like this: I’d unzip the bag the next dress was in, unzip the dress and step in. Electra whom was in the dressing room with me would zip me up. If it fit we would discuss whether is looked halfway decent. She’d unzip me and take the dress and hand it to the lady outside whom would hang it back up. Four dresses had potential but only one required zero alterations and considering the party was in 6 days, we settled on a floor length, strapless red number with a large amount of bling in the bodice area. Done. I just prayed it would still look good when I was sober the next day. FINGERS CROSSED.  For the record, I was pleasantly surprised that my beer goggles were not deceptive

Fast forward to Vegas. Candy and I arrived on Wednesday as the NFR was in town. The first day we immediately started shopping at cowboy christmas. Basically, this is a dream come true if you like anything cowboy related or sparkly. The next day was the same. Evenings were spent at the bars in Vegas. I go to Vegas a lot so bar nights are usually uneventful and very little surprises me so these nights are hardly worth mentioning. On Friday, we woke up burned out from the last couple days packed full of shopping so I suggested hopping on the monorail at the MGM (our hotel) and take it to the last stop and walking back. NOTE: this is a bad idea in hindsight. The Sahara is the last stop and the walk to the Wynn which is the next casino is very long, boring and uneventful. Fortunately, Candy and I can make anything pretty fun so we laughed at how retarded we were and eventually saw signs for Garth Brooks.

Garth Brooks had been on a hiatus for years and this was his first time returning to concert. We decided tickets would most likely be outrageous, considering it was later that night but thought we might as well enquire. I mean, hell you can't hit a home run, if you don't step up to the plate.  As soon as I walked up to the ticket counter:

Lady: “We don’t have tickets with seats together.”

Me: “Do you have any close to each other?”

Lady: “Let me check.”

A few minutes goes by......

Lady: “Wow...it’s your lucky day! They must of just released some tickets.”

We assume this means there are two tickets together somewhere in the back. Nope 8th row, left orchestra on the aisle. Holy shit. We enquiry about price. $150 plus some fees. Are you kidding me? Candy and I still recovering from nearly shitting our pants right there in line but quickly regain composure enough to purchase the said tickets. We immediately haul ass back to the hotel to prepare for the evening. This night was also the night we discovered Diego’s which is maybe the best mexican food that I have ever had in my mouth. Followed by maybe the most intimate concert with one of the biggest musicians of my time. Steve Wynn was sitting across the aisle 4 seats in and one row behind us. I mean these seats were amazing and well Garth didn’t disappoint. We actually walked back to the MGM and went to bed because we didn’t want anything to ruin the night we had just experienced. Words can’t describe it.

The next day was the big party. We woke up, walked around Vegas and slowly started to get ready. I never thought I could feel awkward in Vegas but that particular night I did. From the moment we opened the door to our room and entered the hall some guy started singing “Lady in Red” to me. People stared, gawked, and commented about our attire throughout the casino and lobby. Someone insinuated that we were call girls and told us to have a good night. Roxanne and Ron provided transportation which picked us up promptly and we were on our way.

The party was gorgeous. We were immediately met with red carpet. Drinks were flowing and I didn’t hesitate there. There was a DJ and a glass dance floor over the pool. Ah, the DJ... He gave me the creeps because I felt like he was watching me. I’d turn around and he’d be looking. At one point I was dancing and felt something wasn’t quite right so I turned around to find the DJ, away from his booth, right behind me. He asked my name and where I was from. At another point he played Cotton Eyed Joe and tried to get me to line dance. Luckily for me, my friend Jasmine didn’t need convincing so she went out with him. Then I went outside and the DJ appeared and started talking more and asked for my name. Meanwhile, shit was going down inside.

At least ten minutes went by since anyone had seen Candy and I noticed a line by the bathroom that hadn’t moved in several minutes. I proceeded to the door and knocked “Candy?”...

Candy: (mumbled) “.....yeah”

Me: “are you okay?”

Candy: (mumbled) “....yeah”

Me: “Will you unlock the door?”

Candy: (mumbled) “....yeah”

I hear no movement and wait a few minutes.

Me: (knocking again) “CANDY!”

Candy: (mumbled) “....yeah”

Me: “Will you please unlock the door then?”

Candy: (mumbled) “....yeah”

Me: “You didn’t unlock it.”

Finally there is movement and the door was unlocked, however, I couldn’t get it opened because there was an obstacle in the way. I push the door as far as I can and peek in to find my friend in her formal gown sprawled on the bathroom floor napping.

I don’t do well with anyone that looks like they could vomit so I grab a friend and tell her to get her husband. Our friend Rio goes in the bathroom with Candy and encourages her to throw up. After several minutes, Rio and another guy carry Candy to a couch and we hook her up with a garbage bag. See, all week Candy contemplated what she was going to drink, stating her usual beer wasn’t classy enough for a formal gown. Mind you, two or three Bud Light’s gets her pretty buzzed. Given her dilemma, she opted for a margarita to start the night. Followed by a couple sour apple martini’s and a shot or two.  

Unfortunately, I had to leave her so I could get back to the hotel and catch my 6 AM flight (Candy was driving home). I left her a message to call me when she woke up. Roxanne and Ron took good care of her and got her a taxi back to the strip. Moral of the story....NEVER think you are too classy for beer. Candy survived but her ego suffered a bit and sour apple martinis (so SAMS as we lovingly refer to them) will forever have a reputation in our group.  Vegas-1, Candy-0

Side-note: by the time I got to the airport at 5 am. I already had a Facebook friend request and a message from the DJ whom later turned out to be separated with his wife and magically reconciled. Just one of the many winners I have met over the years...