beetrock

The day that started on the lawn of Central Park with a bottle of cheap white wine was quickly turning into an immoral adventure. First of all, why would anyone go to Coyote Ugly? I wondered myself at my own preposterous idea of entertainment, and Catie wondered as well as she pushed the door open. In fact we were there to celebrate Catie’s entry into the world of wifery, and we weren’t the only ones. About three other bachelorettes loomed in the corners of the neon lit bar, scheming escape and questioning their choice of friends. Catie resolved not to loom, she got a beer instead. From then on it all turned into a bright colored nightmarish dream of sorts. Women were on the bar and they were drinking well liquor from the speed rack. We were on the bar also and dancing and performing precarious ceiling tricks. Men who looked like overgrown computer science and math majors bought everyone drinks and one guy even took pictures. All this to the music of John Bon Jovi and the likes. Why? Why, I ask is such expression of human wilderness is even allowable? I guess overall, the experience, if not well remembered, is that of fun.

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