Ladies night out.
In Vegas this is not an unusual occurrence. There were at least 4 brides-to-be among the crowd. But for me, well, that’s another story. This is how it all began…
A young lady at work asks, “What are you doing Thursday night?”
I answer sort of skeptically because generally, I’m a flake, “This Thursday? Nothing? Why?”
“Wanna see some half naked men?”
I blink. “Uh, yeah.”
The ladies in our events department were given free tickets to the Thunder from Down Under. For those of you unfamiliar with the show, it’s like Chippendales, with accents. Well-muscled men dance and flex and pretty much tease the crowd into a frenzy of handsy, screaming, lose your inhibitions (mostly) women.
It’s a good time.
We ended up at what now seems like a strategically placed table, and for some reason The Sis and I ended up at the front of it. In the line of fire, so to speak. So it really should come as no surprise, but totally did, that for the first “grab a woman and drag her up on stage” moment, I was chosen.
The seasoned dancer, “Alexander” was a big and burly guy with a full man beard, and was thankfully as tall as I was. (You’ll understand why this is important later.) Many of the other guys were quite slight in comparison. He spun me around and made gestures that made the women squeal. It was all a blur except for one thought, “Heels, don’t fail me now!”
He tells me to “relax”.
All right. I know I’m at a show that induces women to forget themselves, and asks them to check their reserve at the door, but at this point, I had only had one drink. And I’m half English. This is about as relaxed as you, Alexander, are gonna get.
He sits me in a swivel chair and continues to dance, thrust, and gesture. I’m like a deer in the headlights, not quite sure what to do. I try to find my friends beyond the blinding light, and I can see hints of them waving their arms and screaming in encouragement.
I decide to ham it up.
I’m uncomfortable, and am one of those girls who would rather make conversation than feel them up. This is their job. Yes, they’re gorgeous, and sexy, and have accents, but do I really want to slide my hands up and down their sweaty flesh in front of a bunch of strangers?! Well, when I put it that way…
He tells me to relax, again.
I kind of what to yell at him that I am.
Another blur of seconds pass, and he tells me to hold on tight. Ah, crap. He’s going to attempt to pick me up. And he does. (At 6 feet tall, this is a huge bonus as pretty much everyone I know is unable to do this. I swoon a little inside.) I think I had my eyes squeezed tight out of fear, and clung onto him like a baby monkey, so it came as a surprise when he laid me down upon the stage.
More dancing happens. All I can hear are the women screaming. I’m sort of shell shocked.
He flips me over onto my stomach and I pose. The ladies laugh. After a few more moves, it’s over. My heels are still a burden as he helps me up and embraces me in a sweaty hug and kisses my cheek. I think I thanked him. For what I’m not sure. The memories?
He helps me navigate the stairs, because I’m both unnerved and embarrassed, and I fall back into my seat desperate for my drink.
My friends love the whole thing. Later in the ladies room, I hear some of the women talking about me. One of them tells me I should’ve taken more advantage of Alexander. I kind of laugh it off, but I’m reassured by the fact that none of the other women taken up on stage did any groping either.
Maybe it’s that thing of having the spotlight on you when you haven’t sought it out. You’re not prepared, you’re unsure.
Overall, it was a memorable evening. There was a lot of laughter and I bonded with some of the ladies I work with. The next day it was THE topic of discussion. They had told everyone. Even the GM had a few jokes for me.
So, you might be wondering what this has to do with anything I normally talk about here…well, the dancer sort of looked like a Dragon Age character, or two. 😉 He’s the third from the left, but I’m intrigued by the Chris Evans look-a-like who was sadly absent that evening. Also, as the name of my blog suggests, I have a terrible memory, so what happens not only in Vegas, but anywhere really, goes viral, as a reminder. 😉