Last night, while eating dinner with Master Reiki and Blue Eyes, they asked me what my favorite part of vacation was. I had to think about this and thus I chewed on my home-made pasta- pineapple- grapes-almond-mayo salad slowly. There was a lot to consider. I decided the memory that stands out most for me (notice I said stands out for me--I'm not sure it qualifies as a favorite memory) was eating dinner in a cabana and worrying about a go-go dancer at a bar after said dinner. This was BEFORE the cruise at a dinner with Dos Marias and four of their San Diegan friends.
I do believe this made the wife almost choke on her pasta salad. After all, who goes on a cruise and has a favorite memory that comes from before the cruise?
Mind you, there was nothing wrong with the cruise and a good time was had by all. I don't want anyone misconstruing what I'm writing here. It's not that the cruise wasn't better or good or that I didn't enjoy it. It's just that this go-go dancer issue came to the forefront of my mind when asked this question.
The night before setting sail on our cruise, we went to this really nice, outdoor restaurant for a tapas-type dinner (you know, where you order all these plates of food and share with everyone because the portions are designed to be small and to be shared). I love tapas. What's not to love? It was happy hour, so Dos Marias and their four friends were enjoying fancy beverages of all kinds. (I stuck to cranberry juice. On the rocks. In a fancy glass. With a straw.) The eight of us were seated in the outdoor cabana, which was really, really nice and really, really fun. We had one of the gayest waiters on the planet, which added to the entertainment. (I'm thinking all the waiters at the place were gay but as I didn't check their gay licenses, I'm not 100% sure. Ha ha.) As it was the exact day the California Supreme Court had ruled that not allowing gays to marry was wrong, everyone was in giddy moods and were talking about their now-pending marriages. (Of course, it was noted during this festive dinner that the California people will most likely vote in a constitutional amendment deeming marriage to be only between a man and a woman, but no one let this fact dampen the excitement of the evening.) It was still early by the time we finished our dinner and thus we went to a bar next door, as suggested by the six San Diegan hostesses.
Here is where my go-go dancer enters the picture.
There weren't many people at the bar at the time we entered (it WAS early for bar time), but there was already a go-go dancer a go-go-ing. There she was on her little stage, next to her shiny pole, white patent leather six-inch platforms grooving to the music. She was like 12 years old or something and was cute and reminded me of a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader--wholesome enough but still a go-go dancer. Quite to the wife's dismay, I personally didn't want to dance because I didn't want to sweat (I swear to you this is true) as I was going to have to wear these shirt and pants again sometime during the trip, so I had plenty of time to sit and think about this go-go dancer (who's name was Dawn, as illustrated on her belt buckle).
As I'm sitting there, I SWEAR to you I am thinking things like:
--Do you think she has to work out or do you think dancing keeps her in shape? It sure looks like dancing would keep you in shape.
--Is she staying hydrated? Why isn't she drinking anything?
--When will she take a break? Does she get a break? That's a lot of dancing without a break. Do you think they have a dancer that takes her place after awhile so she can go to the bathroom?
--Hey, is she wearing nylons? Oh, I hate wearing nylons. I bet her feet are sweating in those boots because of those nylons.
--Why can't I see her sweating? She hasn't stopped dancing but I don't see her sweating.
--Is her name REALLY Dawn or is that just some belt buckle she picked up for cheap in Tijuana? --Does she get to pick out the music or does the DJ just play whatever he wants and she has to dance to it?
--Do you think she's smelly? I mean, she has danced non-stop for two hours and is wearing nylons under patent leather hot pants.
--How old IS she? She looks 12, for crying out loud!
--Why isn't anyone giving her more money?
--What the hell does she think about when she's dancing?
--Isn't she getting tired? She doesn't look tired.
--She is NOT staying hydrated. Maybe I should buy her a water. Oh wait--she has a bottle of water sitting on the back of her little stage. Good. I wish she would drink some of that water.
--Do you think she's gay? She doesn't "look" gay. If she's not gay, what is she doing dancing in a gay bar? Do you think she knows she is in a gay bar? Does she care that she is in a gay bar? Do straight girls dance in gay bars? Do go-go dancers make more money in a gay bar than a straight bar? She's certainly not making much money here.
--How did she get into this dancing thing, anyways? I bet she is a college student supporting her self through college by dancing.
--If I danced that much, I'd be really sweaty. God, I do NOT want to sweat. I can't sweat in these clothes.
--God, she is NOT staying hydrated!
And so, she danced for the entire time we were there (2.5 hours) and she never once stopped dancing and only once she took a tiny swig of water from her water bottle and instead of enjoying this go-go dancer, all I did was worry about her. As we walked out the door, I took one look back. Still dancing, no replacement in sight. The bar was just starting to get crowded as we left. God, is she going to be tired and smelly and dehydrated or what?
As we get in the car to drive home, it comes to me: Who the hell worries about a go-go dancer, especially when they are go-go dancing????!!!
Thankfully, there were no go-go dancers or poles on the cruise, so I didn't have to worry about anyone or anything. And once on the cruise, I could sweat as needed, as I now had enough clothes for the cruise (but it was poetic justice that there was no dancing nor was there any sweating to be had as it was too chilly to be sweating).......
....am I getting crusty and boring or what? Someone do a go-go intervention and save me from myself, please!
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