Drama isn’t just for the Jersey Shore cast; in fact it’s difficult to go out on any given night and not witness or be caught up in some level of it. When alcohol is involved, staying firmly planted in the land of reality is tough. For men, the combination of testosterone and alcohol juices them up for fights. Usually, it’s reactionary to something that just happened. But what about women? Why can’t a group of girls go out and have a good time without an incident?
One night I was traipsing around the EpiCentre with a couple of girlfriends. One wanted to hit up Whisky River and then move down the street to Town Tavern. The other didn’t want to go near Town Tavern.
“Look at these,” I said to Girl 1, pointing at my four-inch, giraffe print stilettos. “There’s no way I’m putting that much mileage on these tonight. I’ll die.”
Girl 1 replied, “I have flip-flops in my car and I’ll carry your heels in my purse, OK?”
“Deal.” Generally I’ll go anywhere anyone else wants to go, as long as it has both music and alcohol.
We began to walk towards Whisky when Girl 2 mutters to me, “I don’t want to go to Town.”
Before I could respond, Girl 1 whirls around and accuses us of (literally) talking behind her back. The three of us are then all standing in front of Whisky River — screaming. Girl 1 and Girl 2 at each other and me at them in an attempt to get them to stop making us all look crazy in public.
Another femme fest gone awry happened the other night when I was out with 13 girls. I don’t normally travel with a pack but had responded to a girlfriend’s Facebook invite. No special occasion, just a big group of pretty ladies looking to have a great time in the Q.C. It was pretty amusing watching men scratch their heads about it.
“Hey ladiessss,, someone’s birthday?” they'd ask.
“No.”
“Bachelorette party?”
“Nope!” Then we’d laugh and exchange looks like we were keeping some big secret.
We’d started at Kennedy’s and moved on to a VIP table at Mez. There we were, drinking for free, fake snow falling all around us, nightlife photogs snapping our smiling faces and great music making us dance.
And then the 14th girl showed up.
Apparently she had a history with one of the girls we were already with. Within minutes, fingers are flying in each other’s faces as they screamed over the music we’d just been happily dancing to. I waved my arms like I was directing traffic at the airport in order to get the attention of security. Both girls were dragged out for questioning.
When women get ready for a night out, we seemingly tuck our emotional and mental baggage into our purses, just in case we’ll need it later. We’re territorial, as if some girl we don’t like isn't allowed to be in the same bar at the same time, and when the slightest look of disrespect flies our way, it’s off with the earrings and on with the finger-waving and neck-wagging.
Since 2011 just broke, let’s squeeze in a belated resolution. Let’s resolve to be a bit classier in the nightlife scene this year. Let’s keep our dresses from going over our heads, our drinks right-side up and leave our kitty claws at home.
You may find yourself having a better time.
