Saturday afternoon, Erin and I were wrapping presents for the muchachos and planning our hot date for the evening when she received a phone call from her friend Jimmy. Apparently, he was bored and looking for someone to entertain him or to organize the festivities. Our plans for the evening took a turn (you could insert "for the worse" here, but you might wait to read the rest before you decide...) right then and there. Erin desperately wanted Chinese food for dinner so we headed over to the disgusting take-out place (no matter how much I love the stuff, I refuse to eat it from there - that is saying something) where Erin devoured a third of her meal while we were in the car waiting for orders from Heidi and Jimmy. Erin took this opportunity to yell at me for my actions regarding a certain boy-girl situation, which led me to make a few phone calls to confirm or discredit her claims regarding my "wrong" behavior (the jury is still out on this one). It was far too early in the evening for this, however, now I was doubting my abilities to communicate with the opposite gender (you could say I'm socially awkward when it comes to boys) thereby prompting me to try to rectify the situation immediately (this did not work, as I think I made the situation worse). In the mean time, the remainder of the Chinese food was safely stowed in the trunk, which allowed us to leave the "Yucky Garden" for Heidi & Jimmy's. Heidi, Jimmy, and Erin were taking me to the horsetrack for the evening to watch racing. The girls figured I needed to be introduced to their favorite past time, not to mention the once in a lifetime experience going to "the track" would provide. (The three of them own/race horses there). I wish I could properly convey what this means...
We arrived at the track and headed staight for the bar. Upon observing the crowd, I was certain we missed a turn somewhere and accidentally landed at the nursing home. We were the youngest there by three decades and two generations. "Sausage party" immediately took on a whole new meaning at that moment. However, the evening progressed quite nicely after a round of drinks until a rather pretentious elderly, I mean older, gentleman approached our corner. He was seeking "luck" and since he had a thing for blondes, he thought we'd bring him some. Picture me quizzically looking around as he mentions "blondes". I was searching for a mirror. Brian looked at me and said, "Sorry honey, I just love the blondes. No offense or anything, you're ok, it's just that they are more fun." I will refrain from commenting here, as I really had all I could do not to break his collarbone. He offered to buy a round of drinks for us. For obvious reasons, I refused and told him I could buy my own drinks. A little later in the evening and a few drinks later, he was offering back rubs to go with his rounds. Erin eagerly volunteered for one. Once he dove right in with is unusually long fingernails and oddly jointed fingers, Erin regretted her zeal. She whispered "help" but we were not going to interfere. She threw herself under the bus this time. The evening just got better and better as the bottomless drinks kept coming and coming (I only had one drink for fear we would never be able to leave). Erin refused to call Brian anything but Frank and she repeatedly bowed at Asian men simultaneously greeting them with "Sayonara." She continued to do this despite all my attempts to get her to stop. Eventually, Brian's son's embarrassment got the best of him thereby prompting him to gather his father to take the old man home (oh and their horse lost). Erin was terribly disappointed because I think she was hoping for an arranged marriage. I took this opportunity to beg the girls to leave for fear I might die right then and there.
FINALLY, we headed downtown to go dancing at the local watering hole. I was in dire need of some drinks after our excusion at the track. Rolling with the (nursing) homies was fun and all, but I do not believe I ever need to experience it again. I was lucky enough to run into a friend of the family who I convinced to entertain me on the dance floor for the evening. He so graciously obliged, which is when I left the girls to drink away my sorrows and to dance the night away. They were fortunate enough to run into some very high quality medical salesmen from Saratoga Springs, NY, who provided ample entertainment for the remainder of the evening. We left the bar shortly after 1 to get some "only-good-when-you've-been-drinking" pizza. Heidi stopped dead in her tracks on the cobblestones, pointed at a man in drag, and informed us that he was her hairdresser. We all busted out laughing as he approached us. The hairdresser greeted Heidi and told her she needs to do something about her hair. This was hysterical not because (s)he said something (I apologize, I do not know the politically correct thing to write here) but because ALL NIGHT LONG Heidi was getting teased about her hair (Jimmy, you're so sweet). Oh and he was dressed in DRAG! This was the highlight of the evening. We consumed an entire super sized pizza, then called it quits. The group had enough excitement for the night. Shockingly, we all made it home safely. Note to self: Gin is almost 50% alcohol so three gin and juices are not necessary...
The best part of the entire evening was when we got home and Erin said:
"He called me supple. I should have knocked him in the willy right there!"
Conclusion: I still know NOTHING about horse racing but I would like to go to the Kentucky Derby at some point, and I would make an excellent bookie.
P.S. It's not necessary to inform me of the one very important fact I left out. I did it for the good of the people.