Flashback Repost - Drunk in Atl...part I

Most of you old timers have already read this - well read again.  Reading is fundamental!  Besides...I'm in the middle of packing and unavailable at the moment, but if you'd like to leave a message please do so after the beep.

beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

It was the summer of 1996 (I think). CeeCee (a co-worker and my newest hangout buddy) wanted me to hang out with her in Atlanta. She was ‘seeing’ screwing this DJ from a popular NY radio station…it’s “where hip hop lives”. He had invited her to his upcoming show in Atlanta and she wanted me to tag along. 


I’m sure she wanted me there as an alibi, since they were both married…and not to each other. My first thought is “no”. My money was funny. Plus I so did not want to be involved in their mess. I actually liked her husband, but when she said DJ was cool with buying my ticket and getting me my own hotel room, I said what the hell and decided to go. I quickly ignored any feelings of guilt towards her husband. He was her hubby not mine, but still...


Ok so we make it to Atlanta. CeeCee had been talking BIG talk before we landed though. DJ arranged for us to have individual suites. DJ rented a car for us. DJ made sure we’re on the VIP list at the club…free drinks all night…yadda yadda yadda.  I was young...and totally eating it up until...


There was no car for us when we landed. I was pissed about spending money for a taxi (may seem ungrateful but I was so broke back then).  We did have separate rooms, but they were not suites. No biggie though. We were at the M.ariott and the rooms were decent. They were on different floors, so I could honestly say I had no knowledge that she actually shared a room with DJ. I don’t know why that was a big deal for me, but I knew her husband would eventually try to question me without actually questioning me nahmean? I am not a good liar, so I was pleased I wouldn't have to see anything.


Our flight got in later than expected and since everything happens EARLY in Atlanta (in comparison to the way things get started in NY), we had just enough time to shower and change clothes before heading to the club.


We take a taxi to the club…more money spent. The first thing I notice is that we are waaaaaaaay over dressed. I don’t remember what CeeCee had on (she's big on getting all glammed up though, so I know it was extra), but I was wearing a super short black skirt, some kind of shimmery silvery halter top, strappy silvery sandles with a significant sized spike heel...and my ears and wrist was lit up.


The women on the extra long ass line waiting to get in the club, mostly had on flip-flops, cut-off jean shorts or jean skirts and tube tops. Ok...maybe I'm exaggerating, but that's what I seem to remember. I cared more about having to wait on that long ass line than being overdressed though…but wait  - we’re on the VIP list right?


We go to the swole looking dude at the door.  I seriously had to back up to look at him. CeeCee tells him we’re on the VIP list. He tells us to give him five bucks each (we do) and he lets us in. Cool right? Not so fast. We go in and the chick at the window, funking up the entrance-way with her smelly fried chicken and fried rice, asks us for twenty additional dollars...each. Huh?


"Hold up - we just paid the guy at the door!” we complain. “We’re on the VIP list”, CeeCee says.


Smellyfoodgirl tells us, “You need to go back and ask what that was for. It’s twenty per person to get in hon…for EVERYBODY” She doesn’t even acknowledge our being on the VIP list. I was pissed. There’s a whole bunch of stuff that went wrong for the day that I’ve intentionally left out to protect the guilty, so by this point I am just done. When I’m not happy, I get this look on my face that drives my people up the wall, but I can’t help it. My left eyebrow arches extremely high and I guess I pout...lol..along with that my eyes get really intense looking - like I can look right through someone. My ole homie Psycho used to refer to it as the “screw face”!


CeeCee goes back to dude at the door. I eventually follow, just in time to hear him say, “Look girl the five bucks was for ME, so YOU could cut the line. I did YOU a favor aiight?” I hear CeeCee say, “But we’re on the VIP list!” for the umpteenth time. He laughs at her. “Aint no VIP list!” She looks at me. I’m giving her my screw face. What else to do but pay more money my broke azz doesn’t need to spend to hear HER man DJ'g. Ugh!


As I walk with her through the club, she’s telling me that DJ will take care of everything. He’ll make sure we get our money back from the guy at the door. He’ll make sure we get our money back for paying to get in the club. He’ll give us money because we’re spending so much on cabs and other shyt. I’m shaking my head and thinking I should have stayed my black ass home, but it gets better.


We get to the VIP-like area. It’s basically a few tables and chairs roped off from the rest of the club area. It's crowded up with a bunch of nobodys, but it's right outside of the DJ booth, so we walk over. CeeCee is still yapping about how DJ is going to clear this up. She knocks on the door to the booth. Random dude answers the door. He asks her to state her business. She says we’re here to see DJ. He gives her the dirtiest, meanest, nastiest look EVER and yells, “DJ is busy!” just before loudly slamming the door in her friggin face! It was soooooooo rude and sooooo embarrassing. All those nobodys, were looking at us like…like…I don’t know. I can’t explain. It just was NOT a good look.


I left CeeCee and went straight to the bar. I needed a drink. I ordered my signature drink (LongIslandIcedTea) and plopped down on a bar stool. CeeCee came over, ordered a drink and started complaining about my attitude. She told me I was acting ungrateful. She got silence and more of the screw face. I rolled my eyes at her and just kept telling myself that I should have stayed home. I downed my drink and was about to order another when this guy came over. He asked me what I was drinking. Before I could say anything, CeeCee told him WE are drinking Alize and Moet. He was cool. He bought a bottle of both and we mixed the drinks as we drank and talked.


Now I should explain. I am a drinking LIGHTWEIGHT.  This was just before my 25th birthday. Back then, I wouldn’t call myself a drinker at all. Me and my friends went partying to dance and socialize. None of us were heavy drinkers.


I grew up around alcoholics. For some people this can make them grow up to be alkies too, but it served as a daily reminder of how I never wanted to live my life. I never wanted to be an embarassing drunk who didn't know when to say when...who thought getting drunk all the time was fun. I pretty much stayed away from alcohol. I had a signature drink (a pretty strong one), but I was usually good off that ONE drink all night.


As time passed, CeeCee kept disappearing into the DJ booth (he finally acknowledged her presence) and I was at the bar with the guy just chugalugging away as we talked. I can’t remember his name, what he looked like or even what the hell we talked about. I just remember he was cute and that he played for the Atlanta Braves (or so he said).


We talked about an hour and then I slid off the booth to dance and realized “oh shit the floor is moving…hey this is kinda cool!” CeeCee was back next to me and she convinced me to follow her in to the bathroom ASAP. You know you’re drunk when a crowd of people quickly part to get out of your way without you saying a word yo!


I was soooooo fucked up, but I remember giggling and stumbling (eventually slipping my shoes off – walking in stilettos on a “moving floor” was damn near impossible) and practically being dragged by CeeCee into the bathroom.


We get into the bathroom and I’m holding on to the sink for balance, but I still couldn't stand upright without wobbling. This was so damn funny to me. I finally look at my reflection in the mirror and that completely ruins my high.


Looking at the pissy drunk face staring back, totally fucked my head up! My micro mini was way too high on my waist, so my apple bottom was practically hanging out for everybody in the club to see. Even though I was drunk I still knew better and I felt ashamed. I tried to let go of the sink to pull my skirt down, but I couldn't do it with the shoes in my hands because my balance was still off. So what do I do? I start crying! lol!


Not the quiet tears that slip from your eyes kind of crying. I’m talking completely balling, snot running from my nose, slobber dripping from my mouth, loud sobs kind of crying. The women in the bathroom were watching me like WTF!!?


CeeCee looked at me and pulled me into a corner. She said something like, “Pull your azz together! It’s mind over matter Jazzy. Stop acting like a damn retard!” I started stomping my barefeet and whining, “Nooooooo…I fucked up. I am fucked up!”


That was the perfectionist Virgo in me talking. I just kept yelling that over and over, “I am fucked up! I fucking fucked up.” Then my stomach started doing flip-flops. I made it to the commode just in time. I seemed to vomit forever. When I stopped, I sank to the nasty bathroom floor and started crying all over again. LOL - I just wanted to die in peace!

To be continued…tomorrow!!