Girls Night Out Gone Wrong | Humor

A group of women would gather once a month to celebrate the small victories in life, like surviving another year, a divorce, or someone's fatal decision to take the plunge of matrimony. Oddly enough this night, the women were celebrating all three of these, which may have been lethal combination that landed them the worst night one could even imagine. Ironically enough one of the soul sisters, Elsie, was indeed celebrating her victory of divorce, birthday, and her future daughter in law's engagement to her only son, this in itself should of been a parade of red flags for headed caution but none the less they came together in sisterhood to celebrate life, love, and alimony.

The Dive Bar

The ladies lived in a town of many bars better known as dives. If you are not familiar with this term let me give you a run down, a dive bar is a bar (of course) that is known for the hard knocked customers that usually pay in loose change, and the bar itself is nothing to look at. A pool table or two usually missing a couple of balls, couple of pull tabs games that have been in play since 1985, and the bartender who as well has been there since 1985, and knows EVERY ONE'S business, which will come into play here. The soul sisters always arranged for a designated driver, and tonight's guest host was one of the husbands who volunteered his work van, which I like to call the raper van. Besides not having any windows, the back was filled with construction material like duct tape, rope, screwdrivers, etc, and as I glance at my friend looking at her with the intent to scream, she just roller her eyes at my paranoia.

"I'm packin my mace tonight" I said. She shrugged it off and fore warned me if we got kicked out of the bars again tonight it would be my job. Yeah she was also my boss, which in a small town is not out of the ordinary.

The Bar Fight and The Puker

So back to the dive bar #1, we had finally arrived, alive and untouched for the moment in high spirits of celebrating our dear friend's birthday and divorce day which happened to land on the same day. Little quick back story here to help amplify the emotions that were spurring:
The birthday girl, Elsie, who was celebrating her divorce was left by her husband of 24 years after they attended his high school reunion and hooking up with his high school sweetheart and after birthday girl lost over 100 lbs and married his high school sweetheart who was 100 lbs heavier than the new skinny birthday girl. Needless to say after a few jaegar shots and some gardening tools birthday girl took on the persona of Linda Blair in exorcist and now is not allowed to go near the stuff, though the exception was allowed today because there was about 15 of us women not to mention raper van driver guy, and the bartender who already knew all this.

So as we cheered our first round of drinks to the birthday girl we also paid respects to her future daughter in law and again rang in celebration with another round. Now at this point we were about 5 rounds into the night and one of our fellow females had disappeared, we began searching for her, and had the entire bar screaming her name, I had slipped into the bathroom to break the seal and finally found our lost friend. She was hovered over the sink puking something fierce, acting quickly I ran to the trusty bartender and told him we had code red in the bathroom, as if this was nothing new he grabbed a giant bucket, refilled my beverage and sent me back to the bathroom. Little did I know she was going into diabetic shock and I was in for a long long stint in the bathroom of a dive bar. Periodically a few of the fellow ladies would give me a status check on my beverage and let me know that the paramedics were on the way as well as a bar fight, that had to do with the birthday girl (mind you she weighed maybe a buck o two) and then proceeded to run from the bathroom in fright of the convulsing poor fearless female.

My boss came running in about 20 minutes later, relaying that birthday girl had caught her son meeting up with his mistress at the bar which had been going on for the past 6 months and the wedding to his fiance was in three days. He proceeded to brag to the dive regulars about his quest to marry his long time girlfriend, mooch off her for about 6 months, leave her to elope with his Canadian mistress. This all played out while on the floor of the dive bar bathroom. My boss also informed me that "blonde one" ( this would be one of the paramedics) was cute and she had done me the favor of giving him my number...apparently being the only single female among all the ladies they felt it was their duty to play matchmaker. As I sat on the floor of the dirtiest bathroom this side of the Mississippi, I contemplated calling it a night, but my soul sisters would hear nothing of the sort and escorted me in the back of the raper van onto the next destination. Elsie, once again, was thrown out of the bar.

Do Your Boobs Hang Low?

I was getting the down low on the situation that had transpired while I was performing my nurse duties, in the midst of singing out our anthem of the of "Do your boobs hang low", derived from the original version of "Do your ears hang low". It turns out that the poor bride to be swung at the mistress, knocking out her teeth then threw her "party bride veil" at my boss and went home. This was a problem for how were we going to get free drinks with out a bride to be?

"Put it on, your the only one that can get away with it", my boss stated. And at this point I was not up for debating the issue, I just was glad to be rescued from my post at the Dive Bar #1, so I was the "bride" to be, and awaited the next destination, which was Dive Bar #2. Now it being a small town you are bound to run in to people you work with, this goes with out saying, but it is strongly advised not to do so while under the influence, things tend to get said. So just image watching a dozen fearless females break down the door to the bar, one with a wedding veil, all yelling the words to....Do you Boob hang low....

And now picture the look on their faces when confronted with fellow co workers who had no clue what we did on our off time. There was boss lady who no one really knew the extent of her private life, that was way beyond her public limit of intoxication, Elsie, who's shirt was torn and her perfect hair was now a rat's nest, the other ladies dressed to the nines in biker wear, and then there was me....covered in vomit with a wedding veil on my head. Needless to say we bee lined it for the outdoor smoking area and hid.

Once again I was to be the one nominated to socialized with the dreaded co workers, and me being the most antisocial person known to god's green earth, this was not cool. Not cool at all. I attempted to play coy and shoot some pool and then realized that my eye hand coordination was way off, thinking quickly I gently laid the pool stick on the ground and excused myself from further embarrassment, stating I had a mid term in the morning. I hadn't been in college for over 7 years.

As I sashayed toward Elsie I saw the shot glasses lined up and I knew it was time to call our other soul sister Hazel, who happened to be a cabbie. I warned her this was a code blue, meaning drunk lady stumbling, and when Elsie got a little tipsy she tended to lose her clothing, so I had to act fast and convinced her to conga out of the bar, and there was our Hazel right in front of the door, ready to haul Elsie home. I sat in the back for moral support while Elsie was screaming, again, "Do your boobs hang low" as she was stripping her clothing off and at this point I let her. She deserved to show the world why this song was sang among us women who had issues with gravity. It took Hazel a few minutes to catch on to my prank veil, with her witty sense of style she stated " Well shit girl I didn't know you were planning your funeral, when's the big day?"

"I'm not, (big sigh), Big Lina, my boss, told me to put it on after the bar fight."

"What bar fight!?"

Sigh, "Elsie bitch slapped her son, his girlfriend knocked out the mistress's front teeth. 911 came for the puker, we ran into some of the coworkers at the bar, two biker dudes promised Elsie they would kick her son's ass, and I got stuck wearing this."

"oh, just another girls night out I see."