Don’t ask me what spurred this random memory and or why I chose to write about it… Basically I was sitting on the couch last night, enjoying some fabulous late night, HGTV and suddenly this memory popped into my head. At the time I must have been 20, or 19 (ohhh the good old days)…

So my Junior / Senior year college roommate, Liz, was always [what seemed like] chronologically light years ahead of me. As she’d be getting ready to go to this party or that event I felt like a 7 year old… sister or something. I’d be lying on my bed, chin in my hands, watching tv as she sat at the vanity, putting her earrings in or applying some fancy form of rouge. I’d ask, “when will you be back, who will be there.. ok have fun! See you later.” She’d grab her sparkly, clutch and say, “are you sure you don’t wanna come, Madds?!”… and half the time it was because I just loved curling under the covers and watching house remodeling shows, learning how to grout tiles, or the various ways to install a sink, and the other half of the time it was because I wasn’t 21 yet. Although I was not of age, in some ways I was an old lady. The times that I would get dressed and go out, as soon as I got to wherever we were going I’d suddenly feel like my eye lids were closing, or like I needed a cup of tea and some yoga. SO FUN. I know.

So this is my story. There were random nights where I would spot a flyer at dinner, or oversee on facebook (shutup) that there was a party where you could be 18 to enter. Looking back this is the funniest thing ever to me… but I would like, rip it off the wall, run home to Liz and be like, (all cool, of course), “let’s go! just you and me, we’ll totally just go and dance and burn calories.” (girls, don’t tell me you never thought of it that way). She’d always be supportive, knowing that this was like, the one time she could get me out (if I made it past getting dressed and I was actually still awake)…

SO this one particular night, this place called Banana Joe’s (I think that was it) was having an “18 to enter 21 to party Ladies night” sort of night (whatever that means). No one else we knew was going but I was feeling it for some reason. Liz had an inkling that it was going to be a weird night at the club and was sort of hesitant, but didn’t want to turn it down, since it would be like, my second time out. Ok, Ok.. maybe first. People who know me are reading this therefore I cannot lie.

Hesitatantly she got dressed and ready, while I was like so uber excited in the other room– blow drying my hair, putting on makeup, getting dressed .. music blaring. I think I am the … doo doo. OMG. my outfit. I WISH I HAD A PICTURE. just emailed liz to see if she can recover one from the depths of her iphoto… (no luck. sorry folks. probably better that way).

SO where was I.. we’re getting ready… I am like.. DONE UP.. Don’t know where I thought I was going, but I went the whole 9 yards… a sassy tank top, pendant earrings, makeup, hurr done, heels.. although I was probably wearing my dreadful sweatpant jeans.. no comment.

We had to take a bus there. this should have been an immediate deterrent, and for Liz it was.. but I was just so excited. First of all, if I remember correctly it was sleeting outside. Our bus like, got caught in an icy parking lot and we had to glide in our heels all the way to the front door of the club hanging onto each other, whelping every single time we almost did a face plant into the icy pavement. Finally we got to the entrance, still laughing, and batted our eyelashes at the bouncer as we took out our IDs. Mine, in bold, red writing stated, UNDER 21…. but I didn’t care. I was a dancing queen and I was there to dance. (UM just so you know, Liz and I used to play Shakira on repeat (like literally 75 times in a row) and dance around the apartment with makeshift Shakira outfits and scarves to waive in the air. WHAT? that never happened. I have NO IDEA What I just typed.)

If you claim you didn’t do that you are a huge, lying, sack of potatoes.

He looked at me, blankly and asked for my hand to stamp. Liz handed him her ID, which may as well have said 25, sorry Liz, I just feel like you have been of age since forever, and he passed her through another doorway. wait a minute. What?! He then unhitched a red rope and motioned for me to enter another door. OH. I get it. he thinks I’m like, super cute. No expression came from him other than his bouncer-esque call for the next person in line. I entered this… room.. and looked up for Liz. wait- What the hell was going on?

People. I kid you not, it was an empty room that was probably 10 X 10. in two of the 4 corners there were fake tree stumps [that girls would stand on and shake it shake it]… there were strobe lights… and that was it. there was NO ONE ELSE in the room. It was literally… just… me… I thought I was in the twilight zone. I looked out for Liz and saw her across the club. I felt like we were reaching out for each other after having just been separated under really drastic terms and I went to un hitch the rope (literally a piece of rope) that “locked” me in this lonesome room.. with tree stumps. “HEY. where are you going?!”, a voice yelled… the bouncer was asserting himself in his cap sleeve, black tee shirt and barbed wire tattoo.. blown out hair do and combat boots. “UM. I am letting myself out of this baby crib so I can um, be with the people here– mainly the person I walked in with. “NOPE. you gotta stay in there. Under 21.” Liz and I were DYING. was he serious?! was this really happening? I was literally in a play pen and I may as well have had a bottle full of apple juice. Liz and I had to communicate over the restraining rope and decided that we should probably not stay here because this was just the most absurd thing ever.

Ladies night my A$$.

My dancing queen dreams rapidly dissipated. I was being held in a room by a piece of rope in the doorway, which was probably from Home Depot, fashioned as part of their witty jungle theme…  and totally mortified. Was I suppose to do the macarena by myself in there? I was so confused! Did they expect me to climb up on a tree stump and do the Shakira when her song came on? actually, probably.

We ice skated our way back to the bus just wanting to get the hell out of there. props to them for upholding the drinking age laws, but OMG come on! I just wanted to dance with my friend– not be restrained in a small, forrest themed room by myself.

It took us minutes to get to the bus and as soon as we hopped on (mind you, this is a large, yellow, school bus), we pleaded for the driver to take us back to school so we could forget this ever happened. She was knitting, and over her shoulder answered, “nope. gotta wait till 1:30 when everyone’s out.” it was almost 11 pm.

ARE YOU KIDDING.

So not only were we just mortified in there, but now we had to wait, on a school bus, with a knitting driver, for over 2 hours.

We had to get out of there and do it fast. It was freezing. we were miserable. Who could we call… DYSHAUN HAAA.. (pssst. he was totally your favorite Stylista contestant, DUH) we called him, even though I remember him being really sick and having gone to bed early.. He picked up the phone, half asleep, totally groggy, clearly under the covers and so not wanting to go anywhere. Being the bestest friend that he is, he agreed to come and save the day… or night. And that he did. hahah I remember him having to scrape off the, something like, 2 feet of snow from his car with.. of course… a clothing hanger. HAha. Only Dyshaun. He drove into the lot, like he was our prince in shining armor (well actually, he was wearing a huge, chunky, winter sweater.).. and took us back to our warm, cozy, tree stump-less rooms. Thanks Deeshy.

It was something that I chose to lock up and bury… deep within the hidden chapters of weird things that happened to me while I was at college.. and now .. now, my friends you are learning something about me that I thought I would never share.

Just by typing this story out an somewhat re-living it… I am sitting her sweating, feeling confused and like a helpless, underage girl once again. To this day, when I walk into a bar and hand the bounder my ID, I frantically look over his shoulder just to make sure that there is not some strange room off to the side with like, fake banana trees and a restraining rope at the door. So far, I’ve been lucky.

disclaimer:

FIY, WORLD, Liz is in law school and she is an extremely intelligent woman, highly responsible, beautiful, and no longer partakes in such childish activities.