Don't Go To A Strip Club In The Ghetto.

My best friend is getting married. So with every marriage comes the american tradition of the "Bachelor/Bachelorette Party" and were not ones to fight tradition so this past weekend we packed up our cars with junk food, short skirts, high heels, jello shots and lingerie and headed to the big city for her big night out. I'm not a big drinker so I knew I'd be the sober one so I came up with 3 VERY important rules.

NO PUKING. NO CRYING. NO FIGHTING.

But of course their are exceptions to every rule. 

If you must puke. Puke in a toilet, sink or garbage can.

If you must cry. It better be from laughing or a damn good reason other wise.

If you MUST fight. Take off your heels and earrings. Give me your phone. And you better fucking win.

And away we go.

The frugal bunch we are googled the cheapest parking garage closet to our hotel and unloaded there. It said it was " 2 blocks" from out hotel entrance. 2 blocks my ass. It was up the street, around the corner, across the street and WAY FAR up the block. As we were packing our shit up the hot crowded streets,our bottles of liquor clinking together, I could't help but notice how different it was then my safe little town. Bums here and there begging for change, people playing instruments randomly along the walk way, hippies, people screaming in other languages, taxi cabs weaving in and out of the mid day traffic. Need less to say I was out of my element  but I was excited and ready for the night to begin. 

Half way thru our trek up the side walk the bride started to get a lil huffy so I assured her we'd be there soon.I ran into the nearest store and made sure we were headed in the right direction. When we FINALLY got to our room (# 802) we were hot, sticky frizzy and hungry. We all started to get ready for dinner while of course gossiping about people we all went to high school with. Who's doing what who's dating who, who's gained what, who's doing who. 

Dinner was fun. The bride started to get tipsy which was the mission of the night. We then headed back to the room for gifts and a game. 

By the end of the game the Bride was covered in penis's, pretty drunk and a little teary.

Yes, my rule was broken but it was a legitimate reason. She cheered up and we headed out.

I of course was in charge of the brides and the maid of honors money and id's. I crammed all of my essentials into my nifty lil front pack and geared up to begin our night. As we were walking aimlessly down the streets of the city The MOH and Bride were whispering and then exclaimed 

"THE BRIDE WANTS A CAB...NOW!!!!!!" 

Holy shit, ok. I'll flag one down. Which turns out is a lot harder then it is in NYC. I damn near had to walk into the middle of the st. in my heels (which I NEVER wear) and stand there until one stopped.

Luckily 2 pulled up at the same time. There was a momentary cluster fuck as we tried to figure out who's going in with who. As I climbed in the 2nd cab I saw the MOH hand the other cab driver an address.

WAIT. WHY does he need and address. All drivers in the cities know where the bars are. 

WHERE ARE WE GOING. I turn to the bride with daggers in my eyes and nicely ask

"Where in the FUCK are we going"

She then giggled and told the driver where to go. The other girl with us immediately started hysterically laughing and I was in a panic.

NO NO NO NO NO. 

I AM NOT GOING IN A STRIP CLUB.

The bride was laughing saying how we all have never been and it be an "adventure".

Fuuuuuuuck.

It was a short drive to the "club" as we pulled up I saw all the other girls laughing and pointing. 

Now, if you don't already know this. I get awkward. I don't like to see naked people. I don't like people to close to me and I do NOT like to be touched. Sooooo, this is my worst nightmare but I hiked up my big girl panties (pun intended) and walked into the dingy doorway. As the doorman was checking our ids and stamping our wrists a bouncer (who took his job WAY to seriously) marched up to us and told us we had to turn off over sized, plastic blinking diamond rings because 

"one of the dancers had epilepsy" 

I shit my pants. I found this SO wrong but SO funny I could't help my laugh.

When we all got to the bottom of the stairs where we had to turn to be in the "showroom" I guess you'd call it, we all paused. Clearly these bitches did not think this thru but we pushed on anyway. Now i don't know about you but when i picture a strip club at a bachelorette party i picture girls laughing with feather boas having a good ol' time. In my mental picture I blocked out the dancers. Now I know why.

HOLY SHIT BALLS.

Those bitches NAKED. 

I'm not your gynecologist. Close your legs. I have those parts. I really don't need to see yours. I could barely look at the stage. I was in a teeny carpeted dungeon surrounded by creepy mother fucking perverts and 5 other girls who were horrified.Shortly after we sat down they brought us water. 

Fuuuuck you if you think I'm putting my mouth on ANYTHING in this club. 

Girls then began to come up to us and ask us if we wanted dances.

Get the fuck away from me you weirdo. One actually asked me if I liked girls. Which I guess is a legitimate question but I quickly and politely replied 

"Fuck No. I got a boyfriend" and looked away.

Wrong choice. 

Boom. 

Butt hole on the stage. 

Right there in all her glory.

Game over.

I looked at the bride who had quickly sobered up and she mouthed 

LETS GET THE FUCK OUT"

It was a mad dash towards the stairs. I yanked my skirt up and took those suckers 3 at a time. I lost my super cool flashing ring while fleeing but I scarified it to the strippers.

Have it. But don't turn it on cause one of your homegirls will wig the fuck out.

When we finally reached fresh air the Bride and MOH exclaimed how sorry they were we assured them it wasn't there fault and that it was a lesson learned. 

We learned; Don't go to a strip club in the ghetto.

We hopped in some cabs and headed to our original destination, a popular bar. When we got there the MOH went straight to the DJ booth and told him to play the Brides FAVORITE song.

The next thing we knew he was announcing her and then that familiar beat started pulsing thru the speakers. In a flash she was up on a platform pulling me up to dance with her while screaming every word. I indulged and started dancing when I felt a hand on my thigh.

Don't touch me.

I looked down and wouldt ya know, a midget.

I tried not to stare but tried even harder to get way from him. He kept his hands where they were so I simply said

" Don't fucking touch me!" I'm almost postive a bouncer heard cause the next thing I knew he was being plucked from the stage and did not return. We stayed at that bar long enough to watch the MOH and the Bride dance on the main bar, drink a couple WAY expensive drinks and get hit on by some guys. 

We then headed to the next club. By this time the Bride was wasted and was whining that her feet hurt. She attempted to take her heels off but I did a freak out about hepatitis and made her keep them on.

It was a jolly walk to the next place, everyone was congratulating the Bride and hootin' and hollerin'. But I could help but notice every bum we would pass would mumble something. 

What the fuck are you saying? But then again I probably don't wanna know what you are saying. It'll probably disturb me so I'll pretend I don't hear you and walk a little faster. 

As we are waiting to go into the club a hear a guy SCREAMING

"I don't give a fuck give me my damn credit card you ho!"

Apparently the bouncers thought he had tried to hit a girl so they kicked him out and his response was 

" why the fuck would I hit a girl. I'M GAY!"

Which makes no sense but whatev.

The club was just packed full of sweaty drunk people and we made out way upstairs to the "VIP". 

VIP my ass, they'll let annnnny mother fuckers up there. A weirdo with fairy wings on, a dude dancing with himself so I just sat back and people watched 'til the Bride slurred something about going home. So  we poured her into a cab and headed back to the hotel. 

She was fine until we hit that elevator and oh boy.

You know when your stomach kinda drops when and elevator move quick, well I SAW her stomach drop. Her face turned green and her eyes closed. 

GOD DAMN YOU FLOOR # 8!

I started punching the button frantically as if that would really help get us there faster.

She melted into one of the other girls arms and started mumbling about her fiancé and how much she 

"hated that fucking elevator" 

I quickly gave the room key to another sober girl so she could open the door for a smooth landing. 

Well I'll tell ya something. Those hotel hallways are a whole lot longer when you got a shitfaced Bride on your hands. We were all hysterically laughing as she sat in the middle of the carpeted hallways and said "Aim done" She then half crawled and was half drug to our room. 

All in all she was a trooper. At the end of the night not one drink was spilled on her white dress, her lashes were still in tact, she was wasted and we all had a crazy fucking night in the city. 

For my first REAL bachelorette party experience I would't change one thing. I had so much fun. Half the time I was expecting to be punked but it just made it that much better. 

Now excuse me I'm going to sleep until Christmas.

'Til next time Bitches.