SEAFOOD FEST -- Part 1

Ah Seafood Fest, fried food, sun, sand, alcohol, and music.  This  recipe either resulted in a great day , or epic disaster.   I had never been the annual Pompano Beach Seafood Fest, so I jumped at the opportunity to spend the day on the beach listening to the bands and drinking rum runners with my new friend Sandy.   I threw on a bathing suit, a cover up, gave my husband a kiss and headed out the door, it was noon.

We arrived at the fest and promptly made our way to the rum runner stand. Five minutes in and we were already enjoying a tasty beverage.  We milled around for about an hour bullshitting, looking at the vendor’s booths, and basking in the sun while having several more rum runners. 

Now here is where our fatal mistake was made.  We were feeling euphoric, enjoying the buzz... and we completely forgot that perhaps we should eat.  

Ladies and gentlemen this is the crucial point where an innocent fun outing, makes that sharp right turn and drags you kicking and screaming down the path of debauchery.  If only we could recognize when the shift happens, and save ourselves by eating a god damn sandwich or something… but no it never ever works out that way.  I believe the conversation went like this. 

Sandy- “You Hungry?”

Me-“No, I’m tipsy… perhaps another rum runner?”

Sandy- “Sounds delicious”

And so it begins.  I can’t really tell you how many of those delicious little concoctions we had… I mean after 4 does it really make sense to keep count.  I do know that we grew bored with the fest, and decided to go to a friend’s home for a BBQ.  To this day I’m not sure if we were invited or if we just showed up, anyway what I am sure of is that there were no hotdogs or hamburgers, at said BBQ, but there was plenty of alcohol.

We did partake in several Patron shots there. Which makes me dry-heave just thinking about it.  I don’t like tequila; I mean who really likes it? Everyone makes the hate face after taking a shot and the burning in your chest…well it just isn’t comfortable.   I’m sure someone egged me on, and I had to prove that I can “drink like a man” when I really can’t.  I mean who am I fooling? I’m a small person.  It isn’t physically possible to “drink like a man”; however I was well past scientific reasoning at this point.   I believe some bad off beat “white girl” dancing ensued, I’m not even sure if there was music.  Thank god for the Patron Blur.  I’m quite sure if I could remember this part clearly I would still be sitting in a hole of shame today. 

A normal human who had all their senses about them would have called it quits at this point and taken their drunken ass home… but again we were both beyond reason and fresh out of any sense, so we moved on to the next location. 

We get to Bru’s Room, and completely lose our minds.  The DJ was playing “Party like a Rock Star” as we were walking in, and we both began putting our best gangsta out there. (We swore he played that song just for us) Good God I was completely “that girl”.  Wearing my bathing suit, and cover up…hair all fucked up and sweaty....my little arm in the air, while singing at the top of my lungs.   I know, keeping it classy like always.   

Of course at this exact moment Sandy’s brother (whom I’d never met before) walked in with his date.  Apparently Sandy had managed to send of a few legible texts while we were en route, so our audience consisted of strangers, as well as people we would have to see again... great. 

  

Not only did she text her brother, but she texted the loath of her life.  I’m sure all the alcohol made her forget that he was the loath of her life.  You know drunken texting at its best.

Now its gets really blurry here, but I believe we drank and acted like fools until the bar we were at closed, and we had to relocate to an after-hours shit hole.   Sandy’s brother being the most sober out of the group made the great decision and ordered us some food. Finally, after over 13 hours of drinking I ate.  I’m positive that the sight of me eating wasn’t pretty, as basic motor skills were too much for me at this point.  I’m not sure how that whole hand to mouth motion worked out for me.  

I remember eating the shrimp... then waking up in my car in the parking lot with the sun rising. I smelled like ass, and knew I was in too much trouble with my husband to even think about.  I said a quick little prayer thanking god for keeping me safe, and out of jail that evening.

As sick as it is to say, this debacle not only landed me in the dog house for a few days with my husband, but brought my friendship with Sandy to a whole new dangerous level.  I had found my partner in crime.