Monday, February 25, 2013

Strippers and Hermes Bags


It is odd how a perfectly elegant cocktail party deteriorated. One minute we were delicately biting into petite canap├ęs with one hand while balancing a glass of champagne in another, and chatting with friends, new and old. Quite suddenly, the atmosphere changed completely. It took only one ding-dong of a doorbell.

Voila. A man dressed as a fireman walked into the party. A room filled with sophisticated women, engaged with one another, turned silent. Aside from a few less than subtle gasps from women who anticipated the worst.

Lights are dimmed whereas the volume of the music is increased. The fireman begins to rip off one article of clothing after another, pulsating around the room somewhat awkwardly. He grabs at any unsuspecting person with whom he makes eye contact, veritably forcing them into a compromising situation. Some women were giggling nervously but most were a bit annoyed and to be truthful, bored. As soon as he ripped off his last piece of clothing, revealing a tiny pair of briefs toting an American flag on the bottom, I exited to the kitchen, in search of alcohol.