Sunday, May 06, 2007

A supposedly fun thing ... we may do again

Content warning: The following blog entry contains language that may be offensive to some readers.

OK first I'm forced to say, "Go see 'Hot Fuzz.'" It is very entertaining and fun. Jeffrey has wanted to see it for weeks, and I haven't been very interested in it. I haven't seen "Shaun of the Dead" or anything, but I'm actually interested in it now. It's this sort of "Wicker Man"-esque comedy/action/buddy movie about the best cop in London getting exiled in this tiny little village, and how he has to adjust to life there. I can't even begin to describe it, but the acting is really good and the writing begs to be underestimated.

OK back to topic: We went on the Spirit of Norfolk today to try it out for a possible wedding site. It's the faceless corporate alternative to the American Rover, which is the scrappy smaller underdog right now. Pros for the Spirit: a dedicated dance floor, large topside for the ceremony, tables and a place to hold the ceremony if there's rain. Pros for the Rover: more character, a caterer that runs a restaurant that we like (though we still have to taste the food), more intimate, we don't have to pay for a set minimum of 100 to charter the thing.

We had a super-fun time on the boat, but I think that might have been due in part to the fact that we were not paying for it. Before we left, I declared that we were not going to fit in because we are not 104 years old. Boy was I wrong. When we got there, we saw a metric ton of girls in prom dresses! So we relaxed and enjoyed our yeasty rolls with our two pats of butter while waiting for an "entertainer" to invite us to the buffet. There, I compiled a plate of tiny bites of everything but the garden salad, reasoning that every salad tastes the same. I mean, every salad tastes the same, right?

The food was so-so, nothing special, nothing horrendous. Except for the fact that it's probably going to determine in large part where we go to get married, we'd probably never talk about that food again.

The odd thing we will talk about again, likely, is the woman who called me and several of the prom girls "bitch." I was downstairs, checking the bathrooms for potential grossness, and I was waiting in the sink area with some of the girls for a stall to open up. Then I heard a woman with an angry voice say, "Shut up, bitch! You all look bad in your dress, bitch!" To be sure, I didn't know what the girls had said before I got down there, but I thought it was a bit much. They cleared out pretty quickly. I could see thick legs meet small Keds under the stall. About a minute after she emerged, I went in to look at the stall, and she came back and said to me, "Get out of my way, bitch!" It was so angry. I was appalled. She was short and stocky and walked slowly with a grimace. I looked at her, thinking, "Now if I lay her out, I'll be the asshole." So I just went back up to my table. I mean, I'd put on my nice shirt, you know?

So I told Jeffrey about it, and we settled in to watch the cheesy but fun live entertainment. But when they played "The Electric Slide," the second odd thing happened: Shorty Badwords was up on the dance floor dancing with all the prom dress girls! She knew the moves, which was more than I could say about myself, and she looked like she was having a good time! She shocked me again! She was on the fringe, to be sure, but she was right up there. She stayed there for a couple songs.

And then the third odd thing happened: S.B. disappeared into the crowd of people she'd called bad names! She was talking to them, and some of them were laughing. I wondered if they were making sport of her, which she might have coming to her. I chose to believe they were not laughing at her. But she got tired, and then she walked by us grimacing again. Jeffrey and I surmise that she's probably troubled or maybe has some kind of emotional or cognitive disability, but it wasn't obvious or anything. I feel bad for her.

1 comment:

jjuulliiee said...

ohmygod, that's hilarious! maybe that lady had tourette's.