Splits Are Fun When You're Forty

I arrive at El D's and find people sitting in front of the TV but not really watching.  El D is sort of sinking into his chair and doesn't look like he wants to go anywhere.  This is not conducive to party times. 

"How many Real Housewives shows ARE there, anyway?" I observe after watching a commercial for yet another one.  "I mean, O.C., New York, New Jersey, Oregon?"

"There's one for Oregon?" UrbanCool asks.

"Um, no, I made that one up," I reply.

This is not really the fabulous Saturday night I had in mind.  Thus, I instruct El Dilector to turn off the TV and put on his favorite going-out music.  The night simply cannot begin until we have heard several selections by MGMT.  Management of what?  Of fun, of course!

The Danish and Bugle arrive shortly, with wine for me and Red Bull for El Dilector.  Though El Dilector has assured me that he has plenty of drinkables, I don't see any, so it's a good thing The Danish has brought something extra.  I "hide" this bottle in the crisper for later consumption.  Yeah, no one will see it there, considering the fridge is literally bare.  El Dilector informs me all the wine was drunk by him and Dancer earlier that afternoon.  Bastards.

It's time to venture out, so we saddle up and head downstairs.  We wave goodbye to the security guard, who already hates El D and will continue the love fest at 2 a.m. when he brings more strangers to his home.   

There's some sort of Latin Funk band happening at Creekside, but El D and I want to stop in at Jimmy's Irish Lair first. We find there is some sort of wild ska night going on and it's not what we had in mind.  So, it's Red Eyed Fly as a backup.  The Danish suggests shots.  It's too early in the night for tequila, so I opt for a refreshing kamikaze.  The Danish is way tougher than me and goes for whiskey instead.  Both of the shots are freakin' ginormous. 

This bodes well for the evening.

Of course El D is ready to leave before my chaser Tito's and Sprite is gone, but that's par for the course and hopefully someone else will continue to provide me with delicious drinks.  We gather up the peeps and go to Creekside, outside of which we have this long, confusing discussion (okay, really it's probably like two minutes but it's hot outside and the huge kamikaze is going straight to the bloodstream) about which side of the bar to go in and how to avoid the ten-dollar cover.  So we go in the left side--not Latin Funk band side, I guess?--and roll out to the back deck to truly be creek-side.

And this is where I begin to wonder: have I been in Houston too long or has Austin gotten weirder?  The Danish and I observe some truly bizarre characters hanging out creek-side with us.  One of them is a lanky, heavily bearded dude wearing green Vans with red shoelaces, women's jeans cuffed at the calves and a suede vest.  He's actually hitting on a lady who, surprisingly, doesn't appear to be attempting an escape.  I take photos but some other hippie keeps getting in the way.  I'm truly frightened by some of this madness.  God, people, would it kill you to take a shower or freakin' comb your hair?   

The Danish and I roll inside for some A/C action but apparently A/Cs all over freakin' Red River are broken.  Now is the time for the hippies to learn more about benefits of deodorant.  Seriously. 

And then....well, I think The Danish, Bugle and I get drunk and take lots of pictures.  Before I know it, the lights are on and the roaches scatter. 

After-party organization time begins now!  Out on the street, El Dilector is sweepin' up.  (I wonder...who sweeps up at Molotov now?!)  One of them, Ageless, grabs me and looks at me with wild eyes.  "Is that guy going to kill me?"  She gestures to El D.

"I don't think so.  He's totally insane, but he won't kill you."

She doesn't look convinced (why not?) but decides to come to the After Party anyway.  I think El D has gathered a respectable four to five extra people, and hey, El D well-done!--three of them are girls.  (Ageless will prove herself to be not only ageless but worthless, but I digress.  Read on.)  In the lobby, El D and our favorite security guard are doing their dance of mean, and I'm busy texting El D: "Be nice.  Seriously, be nice."  Why I think he will read said texts in the middle of fighting with the security guard I do not know. 

Upstairs, The Danish and I carefully pour out the bottle of wine--two generous glasses for us, a couple of drops for the other poor suckers.  We were the ones who planned ahead, and now we alone will reap the benefits!  Muhahahaha.

Sweet.  It's Bugle on the computer choosing music and The Danish and I get down to it.  The Danish is creative enough to incorporate a rolling desk chair into our dance routine, and there are actually no casualties as we spin, tap dance, and roll across the floor.  I guess our dance routine is so awesome that Ageless can't stand not to be a part of it, because she inserts herself between us and loudly proclaims, "I can do the splits."  The Danish and I look at each other over her head, raise our eyebrows and try not to laugh too hard as she sinks to the floor in an awkward split.  I think she might be too old for this routine.

Meanwhile, El Dilector has set his sights on a target and is currently aggressively pinning her to walls while he makes out with her. 

"It's blood!" El Dilector screams as he and his conquest come out of the closet.

No, just red wine.  For some reason, The Danish and I follow the stumbling couple as they slosh red wine, and we mop it up.

Another dance song comes on the computer, and The Danish and I begin busting out some more fantastic dance moves.  It's four a.m. and we're wasted so I bet we are great.  Ageless must agree, because she again inserts herself between us.  She takes me by the shoulders, looks at me and says, "Just because you are adorable, it doesn't mean you can take over the world."

Oh, honey, I beg to differ.

-Shakira 06.22.09