The little fuckers keep getting younger and younger everytime, but that doesn´t mean than the rest of us, (those who are not too young to be ilegally drinking or too old to be stepping our thirties) don´t get confused and treated as if we were girls in their teenage years who lied to their parents and ended up pimped and dressed like hookers in a place that is clearly not where they belong.
When we got there, we were by far the 5 most average looking people in the line. Or should I say, on the little crowd that gathered around the Oh My God All Mighty, Must Cross It Or I´ll Die velvet rope! I honestly couldn´t care less if we went in or not, but they (as in my friends) made yours truly lose her dignity. How? Making me stand there as I watched the Twenty Something And Ridiculously Good Looking Girls and Almost In My thirties But Refuse To Grow Up guys who pursued them just go inside without so much as a hello to the bouncer. They smiled and/or waved in his general direction and in they went. It took me a full two minutes to walk up to the guy and tell him that it was only 5 of us gals, trick that in my high school years worked just fine, thank you. And he ignored me. Ignored. Me. He didn´t so much as turn to me, let alone make so eye contact. Why? Because he was, after all, the bouncer. And as I learned that night the hard way, as far as I was concerned, he is the most important person in the other side of the velvet rope (followed closely by the barman, that is). However, there we were still, me, trying to get us in, and my 4 friends trying to look as if they really didn´t care. It took every ounce of will power not to shoot the guy in the head, beacuse we spent 40 minutes there before a guy that we kindda know told him to let us in... apparently they were BBFs. They hugged, shook hands and he actually appologized to us - "ladies, I didn´t know you knew him, please come on in" - and when we got inside and asked him for Mr. Powertrip´s name he said "Ppff, he´s the bouncer, you are not supposed to know their names. You just have to let them find out that you have money."
At this point I couldn´t help saying outloud "no, really, what the fuck are you doing here? Clearly, you just don´t belong."
"Nothing, never mind" And then I made the most important resolution of the night: to go drink the bar. Not "go to the bar
", not "hang out around the bar". But go drink it. As in "go get blindly drunk and forget about your awkward presence in this glittery and high heeled world." And so I did.