We woke up very tired on Saturday morning, too late for free breakfast, so we ate some nasty processed crap and got ready to go to the pool. I wore my tank top that said, “does this shirt make me look divorced?” and of course my button that said “kiss me, I’m divorced”. As the six of us were walking to the three lounge chairs we were going to have to share, some guys who wanted to read my shirt stopped me.
One guy said, “Let me see your finger.” I assumed he meant the finger my wedding ring would go on, so I showed him. Then he said, “Is the whole thing divorced?”
I wasn’t sure what to assume that meant so I did a wave with my hand up and down my body and said, “Yep, it’s all divorced” and continued walking. I was really tired and he seemed really stupid; it wasn’t worth trying to get a free drink or a kiss.
It didn’t take much time in the sun for me to start feeling yucky in the tummy. I told the girls I didn’t feel good and needed to take a nap. About an hour later they came back to the room and told me they made friends with some gay guys who wanted to hang out with us later. I love gay guys! They always say stuff like, “Girl, you look fierce!” and I know it’s true because they’re obviously not trying to sleep with me. I told them that on the way back to the room I got us on the list at Tao, the club in the Venetian. Suzanne texted the guys and told them to come with us to Tao and I made a call and changed our group number on the list.
At cocktail hour we managed to take down two raspberry lemon drops each while making plans to meet with our new friends. We decided to meet them for dinner at Grand Lux because we wanted more of those insanely delicious strawberry martinis. We took down two more of those each, but it was day 3 in a row of drinking and by this time my body was like, “I am not waking up hung over again, get drunk on your own time,” so I wasn’t even feeling a warm buzz after four cocktails.
Even if I had been lucky enough to get my buzz on, waiting in line (even in the shorter “on the list” line) was a major buzz kill. When we finally got in we bought $14 drinks and nursed them like they were the last drinks on earth. I think we were all feeling the weight of the last few days because none of us were really dancing and we were more irritated by how loud the music was and the people bumping into us than anything else. At least, I hope it was just that we were feeling the weight of the last few days and not that we were rapidly aging into the kind of people who say, “Does the music have to be so damn loud?” We decided to leave.
We went back to our room, changed, had a few cocktails and went to Margaritaville. I had barely enough energy and no liquid confidence to get the kisses I wanted. I was scraping the bottom of the barrel. I was torn between not giving a crap and knowing that the competitive woman in me would give a crap later. I started telling guys that it was our last night in town for my divorce party and my friends had dared me to get ten kisses. I got nine. No tongue. I brought the chocolates with me and gave one to each guy that kissed me. Then I danced. Suddenly I got my energy back. Kimmy, Suzanne and Anne all left around midnight but I stayed with Gay 1 and Gay 2 (our new friends). At some point we lost Gay 1, but Gay 2 and I closed the place down. We danced our asses off. It was just what I needed, and the perfect way to end the trip. Well, the perfect way to end the trip would’ve been sex with a delicious man, but dancing is the next best thing (just like at the end of My Best Friend’s Wedding).
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