It was overwhelming. We needed to fill our family and friends in on the details of our trip, and each time we told the story, we were cathartically working through our very raw feelings and emotions. The same story received the same collective answer "what are you waiting for?".
The truth was, we didn't know. On Monday, Travis discussed the offer letter that was going to start its descent through the chain-of-command on Tuesday morning, and as far as we knew, there weren't any surprises. I'd say it was probably better then what we initially expected going into this process. We waited patiently to pop the bottles that had been chilling for over a year for this type of occasion.
In the meantime, New York was up to her no good ways. The cruel winter had not ceased its destruction while we were away. We spent our entire Saturday in traffic, picking up Bob from New Jersey, all due to pot hole repair. The winter had messed with our schedules for so long, and ironically on the first 60-degree day we were continuing to sacrifice our time to Mother Nature. Unbelievable...
The next day we thought we would try to get out and get a beer to clear our heads. What was supposed to be an enjoyable Sunday Funday with good beer and great food,turned into a stressful afternoon in the cold, followed by a $20.00 cab ride home, after learning our car battery was the latest casualty of winter. With no mechanic open on Sunday, the car spent the night on the other side of town, until I could figure everything out on Monday, which made for an exciting day of unexpected running around... in the snow.
By Tuesday, I was mentally exhausted and my body was starting to shut down. It was the cold before the cold and my body was putting up a valiant effort. And then Travis reminded me we had dinner with the Queen that evening. Ugh...
"Queen of the Night" is a new dinner theater that is all the talk in New York. It's supposed to be crazy erotic and avante-garde and interactive. All things that make the hair on my neck stand straight up. I had heard rumors that the characters grab you and take you to different rooms where you have to do what they say and in some room, some where, there's a naked chick and a tub of milk and if told to, you have to bathe her. No way, no how, not happening.
So when the invitation came to me, I have no idea why I allowed myself to accept. I was bribed with alcohol, yes, that must've been it.
I just happened to read the invitation that day and saw:
"DRESS to please the Queen. We remind you to dig into the deepest reaches of your armoires for the one piece you never thought you’d have occasion to wear—your finest jewels, your great-aunt’s vintage gown, your swankest of tuxedos. Astound us! Kindly note the Queen will deny entrance to guests who are not appropriately
dressed. Please ensure every member of your party understands the dress code."
Oh sh#t, what did I get myself into? No jeans? Now what? I wouldn't have this issue in the Bahamas... I grabbed a sweater and some leggings but fearing the leggings might be see-through, I wore tights underneath and some jewelry that I had never worn previously, as the invite dictated. I felt way too insulated on the train and I knew that I had overdressed. By the time I had arrived to meet Travis and our friends at McManus, I was not feeling well and my sweater, tights, and the warm day were not doing me any favors. I had a drink at the bar that seemed to make me burn up instead of cool down. All the while, we made our way to the Paramount Hotel where the show took place. After waiting in line (typical new york), we are ushered in to this creepy hotel with plywood corridors with blind corners. NOT. my. jam. I had already started to breathe faster and was making my hands into tight little fists in case someone grabbed me from behind. When one of the girls in our group got pulled to the side and whipped, I knew I wanted out before it even began. I tried my best to blend in as I made my way to the bar, I needed a cold drink, a fan, and some kind of super power to take me far far away from here. Apparently all the drinks on the bar were pre-made and what you saw was what you got. All fully loaded with triple sec and lime juice, which somehow directly correlates to my face flushing and my temperature rising even more, I was doomed after a couple of sips and ditched it. By the time we made it into the small auditorium with few tables and a main stage, I noticed that the few people involved were co-mingling. I also noticed that Hugh Jackman was one of the dinner guests. No one was making a scene (also typical new york) and that was probably because there was plenty of weird stuff happening all around us. I made my way to a corner and tried to sneak in a bit of fresh air. I was praying to find an air conditioning duct, just a tiny pocket of air, as I adapted to my new surroundings. I was starting to panic as I continued to overheat and after pulling my hair up off of my neck, I grabbed the invitation and began to fan myself. Dressed in all black, I was trying to shrink away into the dark, all the while, praying that I blended in with the scenery.
I should've known that praying doesn't do me any good in these types of situations. I have developed a serious social phobia and if you know me post high school, I defer public attention of any kind. Opening presents at our couples wedding shower, in front of our closest friends and family, was a much discussed part of wedding planning; and that was in front of people I know and love. I refuse to be in the spotlight for anything, under any circumstance, however, the universe likes to make it known that it strongly disagrees. I will always be the one picked to go up on-stage when someone is looking for volunteers. And I never volunteer. Even if I do my best to avoid all eye contact with the person picking and am the only one not raising my hand, I will be chosen. So, it didn't surprise me when I felt my arm get grabbed and I knew it wasn't Travis.
My heart sank and beat out of my chest at the same time. I wanted to grab my arm back and run but I thought I might be thrown out, or worse, cause a scene. Remember, for some reason, we paid for this and no one else was disobeying. She led me through the crowd of people, then stopped cold and told me not to move. She took away my "fan" and I felt complete terror take over my body. She wrapped me up in some sort of fire hose, like a boa constrictor, so I couldn't move, or run away. My mind was racing. At this point, it was still dark and not many people were noticing what was going on, so I thought I might be okay. Nope.
All of a sudden what felt like a dozen spotlights were turned on and pointed directly on me. I actually felt their heat like flames. My body temperature went through the roof and my mind was in a frenzy. I looked all around me, feeling like I was going to be burned at the stake, pleading with my eyes for someone in our group to please take my place. A larger group started to gather and so did the sweat on my forehead, nose, and chin. I was sweating everywhere instantaneously which, of course, made me hyperventilate even more, because I was sweating. And just when I started to hear murmurs in the crowd saying "why is she sweating?" I looked up, and realized that even my eye balls were sweating. I somehow saw a dangling hook. Oh man. This was NOT good.
This woman who was now my personal Pontius Pilate showed no mercy as I stood there, on display, sweating like Whitney Houston in front of the world, when she connected herself onto the hook and continued to do air aerobics above my head. Bravo Queen of the Night- you have somehow dug into the depths of my subconscious and created my personal hell, in front of my husband, my friends, and Hugh Jackman. Bravo
When her feet finally touched the ground, there was no apology or remorse. She simply untied me and sent me on my way with a seductive head nod, not acknowledging in any way that I had been scarred forever. Just then, I overheard another dinner guest as she dispersed from the crowd say "wow, that was so much more embarrassing then being publicly violated by a naked stripper". You have no idea lady. Thanks
I didn't know or care how tables and chairs materialized after that, and I didn't even care that my dinner silverware was almost getting stepped on by the people simulating sex on top of our table. I couldn't push my seat back into the darkness any farther and I was too scared to even go to the bathroom. If someone touched me again, they were going to die. I made Travis get me a vodka soda from the bar, no frilly stuff and no triple sec, and I didn't care that it cost another $20.00. I feigned my excitement that I had to eat lobster that came in cages and bribe other tables for their risotto. After listening to a woman at the communal table ask me a million questions about my dog walking business, I was searching for a prop gun. This was so not my scene. I don't belong here. This was hell on earth.
The night was a disaster. As we finally escaped the underbelly of Penn Station, I realized I might not miss New York- I've always been a stranger on her train...
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