She didn’t think twice. That cashier pulled out two 5 dollar bills and handed them to me, and I handed one to Sister. It’s not like she could forget us. We had just given them to her 90 seconds before. That’s how long it took us to do our round. I think Sister’s exact words were, “Oh God, we’re in a sequel to Cocoon, and they’re all dancing.” I think she may have stopped two pacemakers as we did our walk through. The place was upscale on the outside with it’s neon light sign and black exterior and then you walk inside and it’s like you’re in Island’s (the hamburger chain in L.A.)
I skipped over our entrance. We were stopped at the door by a 12-year-old who asked us if we had our Ladies’ Night VIP cards. I told him I knew nothing about the VIP card because I’m from Los Angeles and had never been there before. He then explained it would be a five dollar cover charge. Really, Dude? You’re going to charge two hot chicks five dollars each to go into your silver fox fiesta? You should have been paying US to go in! And had we been there before, why the heck would we go back on a Saturday night, when he explained on our way out that the young people come on Wed and Thurs?
It was hard enough for me to convince Sister to go out with me two nights in a row. Now I was getting the stink eye, as we ventured off to our next spot. It was a new club that the door-boy had suggested. He inferred that all the people who are normally at his bar were at this particular club tonight.
When Sister and I walked up to the two tall, good looking door men, I leaned in to one and said straight up, “What is the average age in there, because we’re from Los Angeles and we just had a traumatic “Cocoon” experience at another bar, and we’re a little skeptical about the night life here.” He said, “Honestly, right now it’s about 40-80, but go in, there’s no cover, and know that it gets younger as it gets later.
So here’s the play by play:
9:30 pm: Average age was 60. Apparently, if the door-boy from the other place thought he lost his customers to this place, it’s only because the 60 somethings didn’t want to hang with his 80 somethings.
SIDE NOTE: I am very impressed that 60-80 year olds are getting all dressed up to go bar-hopping and clubbing!!! In L.A. you hit 35 and you never go out again!
10pm- Sister is hypnotized by a gyrating, white jeaned, camel-toe who was reliving her stripper days from the 40s. I on the other hand was having an identity crisis. The people I kept referring to as “my age” Sister insisted were in their 20s. And the people who she was guessing were my age looked really old. AM I OLD? This is terrible! My only saving grace, was that no one could call me a cougar because there were some authentic “Housewives of Orange County” looking cougars in there! At one point some chick was lap dancing on a guy and Sister said, “That woman is totally Tamara!” and then a skinny younger chick started dancing around her, and I said, “And here comes Gretchen!” To which sister topped it off with a, “And there’s Vicki sitting on the couch.” She was right! Although, she may have been Gretchen and Tamara’s mother.
10:30pm, I get my signature drink so I look like a party girl, even though there’s no party in my drink… and then Sister’s college friend just happens to be there with his wife. Hallelujah! Cool people our age in the club and Sister gets to reminisce about school days. But the cool peeps only lasted until…
11pm, leaving us with a great people watching table. And at this point most of the Early Bird Specials had gone home and now the place was crawling with 20-year-olds. And of course, a couple of Creepos, all strategically placed around us.
11:15, Creepo number 1 makes his move. He is nine feet tall with a magician’s mustache and a unibrow. “Can I have the pleasure of a dance?” He asked. “No thank you,” I answered. “I can dance, “he said, “don’t let the height fool you.” Ummm Creepo, your height is not the problem, the way you look at me straight on with your eyeball when your head is facing 90 degrees away from me, is what’s freaking me out! Among other things! He walked away, and as another guy was making his approach, he thought he could get a quick nose pick in before Sister and I turned his way. No such luck. We caught it, and a dance or even him leaning his hand on our table was now completely out of the question. When a third tall and Creepy started lurking around us, we were going to leave, when we were mesmerized by what can only be described as Barbie Strippers.
Earlier, we hadn’t noticed the stripper poles, but now that two chicks in pink panties and tassel tops, were now dancing on the poles in high heeled white plastic boots, and tiaras… we had to stay for a little while trying to figure out what city Barbie and Skipper Stripper drove in from, because they were certainly not from these here parts!
Finally, at 11:30, we admitted defeat. Going out to bars, is not the answer for me.
I’m glad we went because we got to reconnect with Sister’s friends, and boy did Sister and I laugh a lot tonight. Of course, then we spent the car ride home asking the universe for forgiveness for making fun of people all night. Though I’m sure it was balanced out by all the young people making fun of us for being out past our bed time.
Maybe when I’m 65 I’ll start going out to dance and party again. Hopefully Fergie will still be rockin’ the clubs in 30 years!