On Saturday night I joined a group of foxy gals to celebrate our friend Angie’s impending nuptials with a pub crawl to a series of dive bars in Illinois. Don’t worry – it wasn’t nearly as pretentious as it sounds.
We kicked off the night with dinner at a place called the Dandy Inn. A more fitting name for this restaurant might have been, “Tomorrow You’re Going To Shit Squirrels” or “oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god.” They had a very expansive menu and you could order anything you could dream up as long as it was fried chicken gizzards. Also, they were out of chardonnay.
Now, I don’t know about you, but when I dump a bunch of beer on top of a bunch of fried stuff in my stomach it means I’m probably going to need an epidural within the next 18 hours. But, like most major decisions I’ve made in my life, it sounded good at the time and I just figured I’d deal with the repercussions as they were expelled from my body.
Once everyone had their fill of breading we moved on to our next hole in the wall destination because they were having a “Redneck Night.” Which is sort of like a grocery store having “Food Day.”
The first friend we made at Redneck Night was Felicia. Felicia looked to be about 12 and had ingested enough alcohol to grow a beard. At first we just ignored her, but at one point I looked over and saw her methodically pounding the shots that a nice man had bought for our party. I tried to explain to her that they were our shots because, you know, they were on our table and all, but apparently trying to take alcohol out of Felicia’s hand was like trying to take a chicken leg out of a crocodile’s mouth. I quickly informed her that I’m a huge pussy and she was wasting her time picking a fight with me because I will run like the wind. Then she fell over and the bartender carried her out.
The second friend we made was Roger. At least that’s what his jacket said. Roger was, in his words, a “good time.” Here he is in our group photo.
As I enlarged the photo to check myself out, I noticed something.
A very creepy something.
Even after I put my phone away it continued to look at me from the inside – through my soul. Now, God help me if someone out there knows him or he’s a big war hero or something. But for real, we totally got photo bombed by a ghost hobbit. It was time to move on.
Like the other bars, we were noticed the moment we walked into the O’Fallon VFW Hall and the men showed their appreciation for our beauty in what was perhaps the most strategic move in the history of trying to hook up.
They bought us candy bars.
At first we tried to played it cool but it quickly turned into a feeding frenzy that can only be described as someone throwing a handful of food pellets into a fish pool. High on chocolate, we would have gone home with anything, no questions asked.
In addition to chocolate, the VFW had Karaoke and I knew it was time for me to publicly unveil something I had been secretly working on for the past two weeks.
My back spin.
Learning how to do a back spin has been on my bucket list ever since I can remember and a couple of weeks ago I decided that there’s no time like the present. I found a good instructional video on You Tube and the girls’ nap time has turned into daily back spin practice. I had the DJ cue me up some Baby Got Back Karaoke and let it rip as the grand finale.
I made it almost half way around before I had to push myself the rest of the way for one full rotation with my heels. That’s farther than I ever got at home.
Happy wedding, Angie. So happy for you girl, and I wish you guys a lifetime of back spins and chocolate.