Tuesday, December 17, 2013

The End, the After

Following the cake, the show more whiskey and more dancing. There was an amusing audience participation set that included the woman standing next to me (not Yoko), who was clearly drunk and even though the announcer told her five times there was no way she was going to win a prize because she only had three prizes, she insisted on getting up on stage and staggering around to the music while taking off her top.

Amusingly, Chicago has some pretty strident laws on nudity, although you can get away with toplessness in the citywhich was good for the show cause I think otherwise we might have been in trouble, as the staggering princess stood on stage topless for so long that security actually had to come and move her off the stage for the next set to start.

In the end the music was good, the show was awesome, and the finalewhich was a Star Wars setwas a lot of fun. I waited for the crowd to clear out behind me and tried to figure out what I wanted to do next. Go and get my coat and swag bag or head up to the afterparty that I had a VIP pass to get into? I figured coat, until I walked over and saw the line wrapped most of the way around the venue.

Yeah, no.

So I walked up to a stage handler, showed my VIP badge, and asked if I could come get my swag after the afterparty.

“Uh, no, we will be closed down by then.”


I decided the best course of action was going to be a drink while the coat line cleared up enough to get my stuff, and then go back to the afterparty. I took the stairs down to get to the afterparty venue, where I found yet another line of people who were going to pay special to get upstairs. I walked over to another handler.

“Is there a faster way in?”

I showed him my badge.

“If you don’t mind walking up the stairs you just keep going up and show your badge to anyone that asks.”

“That I can do,” I smiled and walked my way up the stairs to the second floor, where at the top I was stopped by yet another bounce.

“And where do you think you are going young lady?”

“Well, according to this, and that guy downstairs,” I pointed downstairs and waved the VIP badge, “I can just keep going up to the party this way."

“Well, indeed you can.” And he gave me some additional directions to get up to the afterparty venue. The House of Blues really is like a maze and I made a wrong turn at the box seat section, but eventually, after much climbing, I found the right door and was able to get in.

The room was already pretty packed.



By hipsters.

I really don’t enjoy hipsters that much, but I found a seat at the bar and ordered a drink, which turned out to be much more expensive than I wanted to pay for a drink.

The guy next to me at the bar (hipster with weird mustache) stared at his drink. I made a valiant effort to engage him in conversation, but was quickly bored to tears with the vapid discussion of his job. We just finished watching a girly burlesque show, did we really need to talk about your job? I did try to engage him in a conversations of aberrant sexuality, but he seemed scared to death so I excused myself to do something more interesting.

I checked my clock and it had taken roughly twenty minutes to find the place and have a drink; I figured by now my luck was good enough that I might be able to get my stuff. The girls had not shown up to the afterparty yet, although they were theoretically coming. My guess was they weren’t actually going to make it until closer to midnight, possibly one a.m. and I was starting to feel tired and annoyed. Additionally the afterparty seemed mostly to be an expensive mating ritual for twenty-three year old hipsters. Being that I was not a twenty-three year old hipster (and being that I was cranky), I decided to just grab my stuff and go home.

I managed to escape back down the stairs, although someone almost tried to force me to wait for an elevator, and using charm and my very short skirt, managed to get to the coat check in time to grab my coat and swag bag.

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