In the words of Garth Brooks, I am much too young to feel this damn old (or to be quoting Garth Brooks).

So for bachelorette party last week, a whole group of us (who were friends from back in high school) went to a place called "The Velvet Hookah". That's cool right? I mean, that name alone begs to be explored...aside from the fact that everytime I said the name to anyone, they thought I was saying "The Velvet Hooker".

I knew we were in trouble when we opened the door to the club and our hair was blown back by the "DUMDUM DUM DADADA DUMDUMDUM DADADADA". AAAhhhh gawd, techno music!

"I'm sorry what?"
"Do what?"
"It cost what?"
"$5? $5? $10?" (are we haggling for a pig here?)
"My WHAT?" (actually I heard that they wanted to see my ID, I just didn't know who they thought they were kidding).

It was an interesting interior. Little areas sectioned off under drapey gauzy tents. We were not of tent importance level, so were relegated to the bar area. You can always tell the difference between singles and marrieds at a bar. Singles start scoping people, marrieds start scoping tables. You can rest assured that if you are sitting down at a bar table, and someone is giving you the eye...they're probably oggling a different type of seat then you think.

The single girls who were with us were busy getting shots in bulk. I was busy trying to tuck my arms as close as my boobs would allow so that Vaca in the tank top would stop smacking me with her elbow.

As me and the soon to be bride scored a table, we sat and looked around us...the bachelorette commenting on how all the men looked like White Slave Traders. I commented how those girls over there looked like they were trying too hard to look like they were models (male hips, carefully funky hair and alot of bracelets). As a fire dancer entered the room, the crowd ooh'd and clustered. Bachelorette and I eyed the exits, pondering the wisdom of one throwing fire around gauzy drapes.

At last we scored a spot in the "Harem". Yeah...that's what they called the tent area. The HAREM.

This was actually cool. Under the "tent" were low tables with big pillows all about. People sat about smoking hookah pipes and generally looking as cool as they could with their stomach fat scrunched up.

One of the girls purchased a coconut flavored hookah to smoke.
"You want some?"
"No."
"Sure?"
"Yes"
"You don't inhale it, you sure?"
"Yes"
I mean, that fact didn't help Clinton any, y'know?

One note...just because the smoke smells nice and coconutty at the time does NOT mean your clothes don't smell just as bar crappy the next day.

This is how they did the hookah. The waitress brings you a big hookah pipe filled with some tobacco you choose. Because this is a pipe that goes all over the restaurant in the course of an evening, she gives each smoker their own plastic mouth piece to use. Basically a hookah condom. Even if I weren't so adamantly opposed to smoking of any kind, that would have sent me right over the edge. With the tents, and the atmosphere, I kept getting imaginings of some really health concious opium den.

I was the designated driver. I had two shots and then stopped cold while the girls moved on to different martinis. This was kind of sad for me b/c they had the yummy chocolate martinis. Sigh. Because someone had purchased my shots, I offered to buy the next round of drinks...which was three of the chocolate martinis. When I got my portion of the bill at the end of the evening...I paused. I flipped through the bill to make sure there wasn't a mistake. $27 for three drinks. TWENTY SEVEN DOLLARS FOR THREE DRINKS?!?! I can't afford to have a good time! I'm sticking to my cheese doodles at home in front of the television.

On the drive home...six of us clustered into a CRV, and I tried to drive home safely despite my failing night vision (gah, I'm old, OLD!) The girls shrieked and giggled in the back and I suddenly realized what it was like for our poor parents to drive all of us as teenagers to and fro. It's amazing they didn't run off the road more often.

All in all, I make fun, but it was good time. No one made me dance, and it was goofy and silly. We couldn't hear each other, but we were able to pantomine in a very entertaining manner. The truth is, I never did this kind of stuff, even in my teens/twenties. But you know, it was nice to do it now...when there are no expectations, ulterior motives (girls looking over your head for a guy) running through the night. Just some girls having fun, and enjoying each others company. I didn't realize I needed that until I did it.

Of course we still got home before two :) Old, OLD!!!