T h e A d v e n t u r e s o f C h i c a g o J o
|2007-01-31 – 6:13 p.m.|
Man oh man oh man. For someone who’s so emo right now, I sure have a lot of fun things going on. I gave a recap of the weekend, but I never mentioned last Wednesday.
It was getting kinda late, and my cell phone rang.
“Hey Sucker. I know you’re sitting there in your underwear, watching Law and Order. Put the cookies down and put on some clothes. I’ll be there in a few minutes. We’re going out for a drink or two.”
I looked down at my little white tank top and the comfy white Jockeys, put the brownie on the paper plate in front of me, and very defiantly said, “I’m watching Without a Trace, thankyouverymuch,” not at all admitting that this friend knows me well enough to call me out on all of that other stuff.
I used my ten minutes pretty well, throwing on a v-neck sweater, a pair of jeans that just barely fit my legs, and some makeup so no one would point and laugh at the guy who dresses like he’s stepping out of a Kenneth Cole ad who showed up to a bar with the vagabond.
If you’ve ever read my blogging banter before, you know that no back story is needed: When going out for “just a drink or two,” there’s no telling how the night will end.
With one mojito each in-hand, we found the friends. Apparently these friends weren’t there for just one drink, and we were joining them for dinner. We smushed ourselves into a table in the perfect spot were we into the see-and-be-seen scene. Hell, a super-famous super model was sitting next to me, and most of the women in attendance were also wearing cute little shiny shirts. Make that the See-and-be-Scene -- har, har.
We entrusted one of the guys to order, and we had ourselves a feast. A couple more mojitos later, and we started to wrap up dinner. The band that was setting up during dinner finally started playing, so we stuck around for a bit.
From the side door, three Capoera dancers came out and started kicking and flipping at each other. Oooh, shiny!
Then this guy with a clarinet came out and starting jamming along with the samba band. Yes, clarinet and jamming in the same sentence.
And these break dancers. And a guy doing the beatbox. And kids with five-gallon buckets, playing them like drums.
But oh boy, oh boy, this was not all. When these can-can dancers came out in sparkly bikini tops, bottoms with fringe, and big feather hats and started pulling people from their tables up to dance...
Yes, of course I was up front, shaking my groove thing. Okay, it was samba... So I shook my bon-bon. Made sure that my hips don’t lie. And she-banged, she-banged and all of those other catchy songs from the 3.5 seconds that the US experienced the Latin Infusion in our everyday music.
Rick Martin, I shake my fist at you.
Shakira, I shake my hips at you.
After all of the shaking and shiny things my mojito-ed little body could take, we headed to the upstairs lounge. I had no idea this place was there, but it was chic and a great way to end the night on a nice, chill note.