Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Nash-Vegas, Baby!

The other night when we went out to help those "sweet young things" celebrate their 21st, I compiled enough material to blog until I die. There was more "interesting" people out there than I could have ever imagined!

For starters, let me just say: Spandex is a privilege- not a right. And there are people out there who seem to think that Spandex is actually part of the Constitution, and is thereby their inalienable right to wear, no matter how dire the consequences. People, step away. Back up. Just say "no."

Secondly, is there some handbook that everyone else got that I missed for going downtown on a Saturday night? Because most of the people traveled in groups. We saw enough bridal parties/bachelorette parties to fill even a mega church full to the brim.

The bridal parties were easily recognizable because they distinguished themselves with matching clothes, sashes, veils, shirts with sayings on them, feather boas around their neck or sewn around the hem of their shirt, and various other matching props and costumes. Most of the parties were huge. I couldn't imagine ever having that many bridesmaids. And let me just say, these little bride's maids were not acting very "maid-ly". They were flat-out raunchy. Apparently bachelorette parties are a little different than when I got married. (Not that it's completely surprising, but still...)

And I have to say, bridesmaids these days are really getting the short end of the stick. In my day, they had to show up for a shower or tea or two, then wear the "ugliest dress on the rack" down the aisle. Their primary role was to keep the bride from puking on her gown before the wedding started. Then they were to hold her flowers and fluff her train and veil throughout the ceremony, photos and reception.

Today's bridesmaids go way above and beyond. Showers and teas are tame compared to these ladies going out en masse to behave in a way that is supposed to make the bride puke. They spend inordinate amounts of time trying to tease poor, unwitting boys, in order to feel like they've gotten out their last "hurrah." (I guess the boys should really know what they are getting into, considering the girls usually have some kind of labels on them to distinguish themselves as a bridal party...)

And here's the kicker: during the bridal parties of my day, the bridesmaids had one outfit of torture to wear during the day of the wedding. Some heinous poofy dress with dyed-to-match-shoes that made our feet go to sleep, that every bride gushed, "I got one that I knew you could wear again..." (OK- where??? Is there an annual "Ugliest Bridesmaid Dress Contest" I don't know about? Because there are so very few places to wear a bridesmaid dress... Kinda' like an ugly version of the bridal gown, actually...) Today's girls are subjected a minimum of two awful outfits: one for the bachelorette party, and one for the wedding. Truly, it's usually a toss up as to which outfit is worse...

Speaking of dressing badly, I would love to have been a fly on the wall at some of these people's homes when they were dressing for the evening. You wonder what was going through their minds as they chose the evening's ensemble. Many obviously had no mirror to speak of. And some people must actually believe that if you wear a bright enough, tight enough, small enough outfit, that it must somehow make you look slimmer. If you are one of those people, please listen to me: You do NOT look slimmer. And I would also like to mention that undergarments are not just about modesty and hygiene. They also provide support, which "generously curvy" figures can really use.

And, if you are a guy, wearing baggy pants that hang between your knees is not attractive. And watching the poor guys struggle with them all night, it doesn't look like they are very comfortable, either. And the shoes that are so big that you slosh around in them-- I just don't get it. But, I guess that's fair, because I'm sure you don't get high heels, either.

We were accosted by a group of about twenty matching (old) Elvis impersonators, complete with spandex and sunglasses (please see note on spandex above). We tried to be very cautious around the motorcycle gang with matching leather vests, chaps, boots, bandannas and tattoos. The group of Asian girls who were dressed in less clothing than my six year old wears made me worry for them in a very maternal way. And the group of young men who live the alternative life style had more eyeliner on than Tammy Faye Baker. (Hey, I'm not casting stones. I'm just saying, make up is designed to enhance, not make your face inches thicker.)

All of these folks mingled together peacefully, weaving in and out of clubs. The dance floors were small, so everyone looked like they had it a little more "together" just because they couldn't move very much and show their apparent lack of balance.

The handbook that I mentioned earlier must also include some sort of nightly race to see who can consume the most alcohol. Since I was designated driver, I was in very last place all night. I stuck to diet coke and water, which I actually got stopped for when leaving one of the clubs. The bouncer called out, "Ma'am," which I ignored, because "ma'am" implies "old woman" in downtown Nashville on a Saturday night.

"Excuse me," he tried again. This time I turned to him and said, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, but you can't take that drink with you outside."

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's diet coke."

"Yeah, I know. But it's the rules."

"But it was $3.00."

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

So I slugged down the rest like a shot, probably making him suspicious of the "diet coke" explanation, because I was not going to waste a six ounce, $3.00 plus tip, filled with ice, diet coke. The bouncer looked at me sideways like he wanted to call me "ma'am" again.

I was immensely proud of the way our young ladies looked and handled themselves. We only had one small snafu. A man "selling" flowers solicited us and one of our girls took pity on him. As she was digging through her wallet in front of him (I really wanted to scream "Stop that! Put your money away! Haven't you ever listened to Kenny Rogers sing, 'The Gambler???'.") a twenty was poking hap-hazardly out of the top. Our flower boy snatched the twenty and dashed, leaving our young lady shocked, angry and upset.

Outside of that, our group was pretty tame. Our girls made everyone else look like they were trying out for MTV Mardi Gras or something. We only lacked the beads...

Nashville on Saturday night is quite interesting, to say the least. And seeing it through my (somewhat) older eyes was an enlightening experience. I'm sure the same scene is played out every Saturday night- and probably other nights, as well.

But, I'm totally okay with not being part of it. I'm to a point in my life that staying home and drinking a glass of wine while playing Scrabble is about as exciting as I need to be. That way I get to keep an eye on my kids and any of their friends that tag along. And I get to be with friends and family.

I have no need to "pick up" guys, or be picked up. Yes, it is nice to be considered attractive. But it is obvious that the Saturday night downtown scene is not about making "love connections." It's about "hooking up" and meeting some perceived base needs by coupling with complete strangers. Yeah- that doesn't sound like anything that is remotely appealing.

I feel bad for those who are in the "dating scene" and have this as one of their alternatives for meeting a potential spouse. To me, this would be about as effective as glasses on a bat.

But, our girls had fun. They officially welcomed "21." And we all made it home safe and sound. I guess that's about the best outcome one can ask for when going downtown to "party" in Nashville on a Saturday night...

1 comment:

ThePrincessMommy said...

I have two words for you VBff: SPA DAY!! I guess NashVegas has outgrown us!!! :-(