Are you happy now?

So my daughter Chyna has been on my case about spending time with her friends parents. She has the crazy idea that I should automatically want to be friends with them because our children hang out. As I politely tried to explain you can not force friendships and people that I do call my friends are so because we share common experiences and we’ve bonded in some form or another. And, just because I do not want to go on a weekend trip to NYC with Kylie’s mom does not make me anti-social. It means that I know my limitations in interacting with certain human beings in certain settings and that situation would so throw me over the edge. Now, if it was Kylie’s dad I might reconsider. He is kind of hot in a Brian Kest yoga master tantric sex, vegan granola kind of way. But, I digress...

Anyway, Rita, a mother of one of Chyna’s buddies, tells me her motorcycle biker club (yes, I said motorcycle) is throwing a cabaret and she has an extra ticket. So to appease her and Chyna I decided to finally accept an invitation to hang out. I ask her what I should wear and she says “well it’s a typical cabaret, so…”. So….. that doesn’t help me since I have never been to a local cabaret and have no idea what to expect. Now, if you are part of the blissfully ignorant like me let me break it down. We are not talking the critically acclaimed play and movie, nor are we talking about this. In reality, or at least in the reality of local DC/B’more commoners a cabaret is a party that is usually thrown at a club, a boat or in the case of last night’s fiesta, an elk’s lodge in bumfuck Dundalk, Maryland. It's suppose to be for the "grown and sexy" and they make it seem exclusive by selling tickets ahead of time. Alot of times, it's BYOB and they usually have some bootleg food that may or may not be worth the $15-20 you shell out. So why do they call it a cabaret? I still dont know but I decide what the hell I'll go check it out. I throw on some heels, my cutest jeans and a sparkly pink top. I happily agreed to taking separate cars and following her up there. Forty-five minutes, a toll road and two high ass bridges later we arrive at the lodge. If it wasn’t for the 50 plus bikes parked side by side I may have missed the place. I take a deep breath and put my best “I’m happy to be here” face on….Showtime!!!

Rita, or “Smilee” (as her biker buddies called her), introduced me to the gang as we headed in. Everyone at our table was nice enough I guess. They said the obligatory hellos but didn’t pay too much attention to me after that. Well except “Brutus” who made it a point to buy my drinks and tell me how nice my hair looked even though it wasn’t a weave. A little while later things really got going when the D.J. played “Lean wit It, Rock wit It” and every biker boy and biker chick got out on the dance floor while I happily sat bopping my head and warming my seat declining dance offers. Don’t get me wrong I can get it crunked with the best of them but I just think after the age of 25 there are certain dances you should not attempt to do. See what I mean???
The best part of the night was when they took a “pause for a cause” to not only remember all their fallen biker comrades but to give out "Trophies" of Smirnoff and Bacardi to individual biker clubs for certain achievements.:

Club who has the most members’ rep’n ..Ruff Ryders
Club who came earliest ..Ghost Town Riders
Club who traveled the farthest…N2 Deep

Um hello..I drove 45 minutes…can I get a bottle of Boone’s or some’n???

Oh well, I lasted a whole 2 hours and thought it was time to take my siddity ass back over the bridge. I said my good byes to my new biker “friends” and promised to take a picture at the next event. I did however get a souvenir of the event in the form of a ticket on my way home from a nice Dundalk police officer for a broken tail light. Actually, it was probably just a reminder from the universe to not be so judgmental, but whatever.

So, contrary to Chyna’s beliefs I am not “mean” or “stubborn” or the least bit “anti-social”. I showed her that I can pretend to fit anywhere and if it ends with a smile on her face regardless of how many cranberry and vodkas it took then damn... it was all worth it!!!