"Interrupting the Band": A National Scandal

This weekend I learned two things: it’s almost impossible to find a black vest for under sixty dollars and when you give my mother five Captain Morgan’s she flirts with the bartenders and makes a complete fool of herself.

We’ll start from the beginning. I called Macy’s three days before I started because I wanted to know if I could wear colored collared shirts. They said sure only if you wear something black over it. Okay so I got to thinking about vest, jackets or coats. It’s way too hot for a jacket or coat and I didn’t want to look like an idiot. I thought the only way I would wear a jacket or coat was if I was working in the New York City Macy’s. I remembered that my fashion icon Carrie Bradshaw wore a white vest with pants so thought why couldn’t I wear a black vest with pants.

I went to Goodwill’s all over fucking town and found nothing! And to add more embarrassment I couldn’t fit into an extra large vest! I wanted to cry. I couldn’t fit in an extra large vest!!!!

That night, in order to get out of my “I’m too fat for an extra large” slump, my mother and I went out to dinner. She invited her friends, well, the ones who answered her. It was at the restaurant that she had her first two drinks- a Captain Morgan and Diet Coke. We met up with her friend from work, a Russian. We got our food, talked about Halloween costumes (praying I don’t work because my costume is absolutely fabulous!) when the Russian looked around for someone who was smoking because she forgot her lighter at her place.

I noticed that the lead singer was a smoker, after every bad rendition of an eighty’s song he took a cigarette break, so I told the Russian to “Interrupt the band and ask for a light.”

“I can’t do that,” she said with her thick Russian accent.

“Why not? It’ll cause like a national scandal,” I tell her.

She shakes her head no.

“Hey this is a good song and you’re doing a real good job but I need a light.”

Still no.

My mom suggested that we head over to the hotel behind the restaurant because they have Saturday night black-light parties. I mean, what else do you do with your kids? The black-light party was on the rooftop, complete with DJ and a bachelorette party. This is where my mother had three drinks- again, Captain Morgan and Diet Coke. The Russian had three beers and I had a Shirley Temple.

You don’t know how much you want to kill yourself until you see your mother and her friend line dancing to Ke$ha with a bartender from New York. It was when my mother started hitting on an older man that I knew it was time to go home.

“Can you imagine sleeping with someone from Canada?” she asked me in the car.

“No I can’t.”

“They’ll probably be like Oh, Oh, Oh, Sorry. Thanks.”

“When they climax they’ll be like ‘Oh CANADAAAAA’,” I say.

Oh and the next day I found a vest. A black sweater vest from Dillard’s that cost me eleven dollars.