Sunday, March 21, 2010
Last night myself and a few friends went out for a late night, relatively expensive, Cafe Chameleons coffee and Mississippi mudpie. Dangerous stuff but very much worth the trip; a very Carrie Bradshaw of Sex in the City event. What saved us from this terrible Sex in the City association was that we dragged the boys along (very little dragging...Chocolate mudpie is always a great incentive).
The place was quiet, relatively few tables occupied, yet we were placed next to a very rowdy table of twelve; a bachelorette party. There was much of the usual, the clinking of champagne glasses, bursts of untimely laughter, sing-songs and the like. I couldn’t help but look over approximately one hundred times in the short space it took our delectables to arrive. Everyone around that table was having so much fun; secretive chatter between bridesmaids, the ongoing enticement from the bride-to-be’s mother of all that was still to come for the evening and of course, the glowing blush of the bride every few seconds (BTW this is not a love-blog). It was, in all its pink-and-glitter fabulous(ness), a spirited and warm-hearted event.
We got down to our yummies and subsequently my friend and I needed to take a short bathroom break. A long story short, we bumped into the bride-to-be and her mother in the bathroom. A really fun pair, they told us about the list of tasks to be completed by the end of the evening. They were looking for two young guys they could palm phone numbers off of. We offered the services of our table for the evening (and watched from behind a wall, the reaction of our boyfriends when approached by the bride-to-be and her bridesmaid).
It was all in good fun and the girls-only bridal party were grateful for it, especially when considering another table were approached shortly after ours and the bride-to-be was told to, and I quote, ‘piss off’. They finished off their evening with several rounds of strawberry liqueur while we ended ours with a table underwater as my dear friend landed his full glass of H20 all over the tables. In cleaning up and calling for the bill, imagine our surprise when the mother of the bride-to-be came over and said quite simply, ‘you guys were such great sports, I’m picking up your tab’. Uhr, THANK YOU!
The moral of the story is: Karma exists, spontaneity is often rewarded and most importantly, being genuinely nice without the expectation of something in return will bring you happiness, participation in life and free coffee. We were doubly rewarded when the mother told us girls as we were leaving, ‘the boys were only willing to dish out their details when told that their girlfriends were in on the event’. Cute (sigh...perhaps this is a love-blog).