So yesterday was eventful. I went to lunch with James and his friend Jeff (the foreigner from California) and bought a new anime while I was out. In the evening, I went as arm candy to the annual Marine Corps Birthday Ball. Technically, the birthday is Nov. 10th, but apparently the hotel was booked then.
When we arrived at the hotel, there were maybe 100 people milling about down in the ballroom area. My date recognized a few people from his...squadron? wing? (I can't remember the hierarchy) so we went over for introductions. Jason got a beer at the open bar (free draught beer until it ran out), and I abstained. I could see where this was going before the event even kicked off. We went and got our picture taken. I looked fan-fucking-tastic as always. (I'm sorry, you'll have to come back later. There's a beautiful woman in my spoon.)
Once through the picture line, it was time to head inside to our table, so that is what we did (my date tried to get another beer, but they claimed the bar was closed until after the ceremony). I shook hands with many people last night, but their names and ranks are long forgotten.
We spotted our table in the VEEEEERY back of the room, next to the projector screen. My date didn't get tickets until the last minute. As it turns out, we were plopped at a table with a very odd family. It was a husband (army man) and wife, her sister, the girls' father (retired Marine), their mother (active duty marine) and some random guy with them whose ties to the family I never figured out. Someone's 16-year-old daughter was there too, but I'm not sure to whom she belonged. One of the women was loud and obnoxious, and was really excited about the Nascar races taking place this weekend. Jason and I exchanged a look, which was the first of many throughout the course of our evening with the table.
The pageantry began with a prayer and the marine corps hymn or somesuch, and a "birthday" message from the head of the Marines. He looked just like every other CEO giving a generic speech to employees "Oo-rah we're doing a good job, keep it up, and don't be retarded." Okay, he didn't tell them to not be retarded, but I wish he would have.
At this point it might be prudent to point out that I don't think ALL Marines are jerks. My date was perfectly agreeable and polite (I know he was trying very hard. Thanks for not embarrassing me.), but even at such a formal affair, most of the men wandering around were less polite. Their dates/wives weren't much better though. If you're wondering why kids pick up swears at a young age, just ask them if their parents are in the military.
Anyway, I digress. I got to dress up at a nice event, learn a bit about Marine Corps history, eat some really tasty chicken and beef (roast chicken with creamy pesto sauce and juicy beef with a balsamic vinegar sauce...OH YES), and ended up babysitting drunk Marines.
After the food, we jumped from hotel room to hotel room where several groups of people were having parties. Someone staying in the hotel called in a noise complaint on us, and a cop came and told us to get out of the hall. This is when I sighed and realized my night was going to go on forever. We left the hotel after picking up the pictures, and I drove his car downtown to meet up with his buddies at the Flying Saucer.
At this point I wasn't really having what you'd call "a good time," so I got a pint o' me favorite beer and chatted with one of the other dates (aka designated drivers) for awhile. This one is one of those "blonde bombshell" types. She's a senior at TCU (my alma mater) and I would have bet good money she is in a sorority. Still, it was either chat with her or talk to the incredibly awkward thin girl who is probably as nerdy as me. If we're going purely on couples that look good, she and I should have switched dates.
Some guy's cousin showed up with his snobby-looking ladyfriend and wanted to buy everyone beers, but no one really wanted beers. In fact, the atmosphere became much less chill and fun after he arrived. So the tall Marine whose date was the sorority girl decided we were going to Pete's Piano Bar. I have long wanted to go there, but these circumstances were less-than-ideal. Off we go, however, because I'm just the arm candy and I'm trying to let Jason have his fun night out on the town. Between the 'Saucer and Pete's, the men had their hands shaken MANY MANY TIMES. I had mine shaken a couple of times, but it was awkward, because I'm not actually a "military wife" as these people seemed to think (in spite of my lack of ANY proper identifying jewelry on my hands).
Upon our arrival at Pete's, we suffered through another gauntlet of handshakes on our way up to the bar, at which point that guy's cousin bought everyone tequila shots. Someone had to drink mine, and I got laughed at just a little because I didn't want to take a cab instead of just NOT DRINK. First of all, I hate tequila and all things associated with it. Second, I don't think people understand what "designated driver" means. Good grief. It was at this point I decided I didn't want to be a Marine Corps groupie anymore. I mentioned the jerkitude earlier, but it becomes exponentially worse as more booze is consumed.
Or maybe I just don't like large groups of drunk, burly men. In the end, all I can say is that I am well pleased by the fact that no one puked on anything I own or borrowed from Morgan. The evening wasn't a total waste. It did feel good to be arm candy, and, like everything else I do, it's fodder for stories later ;)!
Oh yeah, and since I generally talk about food here, I'll go ahead give the Hyatt Regency at DFW Airport's caterers high marks for their delicious chicken and beef (the beef was better), but low marks on refilling my tea.
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