Belligerence And Debauchery ... "The Others" Style.
Installment Number One: Friday.
warning: lengthy, but worth it.

So much happened over this past weekend, and I don't know precisely how much I actually remember. I think the alcohol killed my brain cells. I'll try to make this into a cohesive post, but I'm sure I'm leaving something out. I'll add more as it comes back to me in fits of lucidity. Some of it will remain just between us girls ... because (like Vegas) "what happens in Atlantic City ... stays in Atlantic City." Enjoy.

5:20 AM. Friday, September 17. My alarm goes off, and I promptly whine about it (because I didn't go to bed until after 1 AM the night before). As you all know, I don't function well in the morning, and this ungodly hour was not welcome. Until I realized that today was the day we were leaving. I got dressed quickly, threw on my trusty Hollister cap, and brushed my teeth. Finished up just as L was pulling into the driveway to pick me up. We arrived at Z's house, and promptly jumped up and down and squealed in the darkness ... we were really really going! EEEEEE! We all gathered up, took a quick photo, and piled into 2 cars (well, JK was still asleep ... so we just kinda folded her up, shoved her in the back seat, and shut the door). In Mombi's car was Z, L, AC, and Mombi. In my car was A, Miata, JK, and myself. We got out of the driveway, onto the highway, and then A let fly with ... "Soooo, H. Tell us *all* about TheBoy. We need to know. What's he like ..." Nothing like starting a road-trip out with a bang, eh?

So, we continue to talk, and then we cross into PA ... we've already ridden what seems like FOREVER. Meanwhile, JK is comatose in the backseat (was she drooling?), and Miata, A, and I are having a discussion about two of my favorite things: oral sex and McGriddles. We decide that we need food NOW (better than needing oral sex NOW, I guess ...) and that it's time for McDonald's. I mused that if I didn't get a McGriddle soon, that I was going to have a colossal temper tantrum in the lobby, and that I would allow Mombi to start cutting people for some tasty breakfast goodness. We then realize that we are in bum-fuck-nowhere Pennsylvania and there IS no McDonald's for another 30 miles. So we turn on the radio to try to find a worthwhile station ... and the radio spits out some crap at us about it being "Ghetto Friday". This, of course, launches us into a fit of giggles and West Side posturing. Yo, yo ... what up dog. As we pull into McDonald's, JK comes to, and asks us if McGriddles are good, because she's never had them but she's craving them something fierce. We all just kind of look at each other and start busting up laughing ... as she apparently caught part of our conversation in her sleep. Good thing she didn't absorb the *other* part, eh?

Then, we pulled over to top off our gas tanks at the travel plaza that had such things as a chiropractic office and its own church. Thought about stopping in to pray for our souls, but decided that it was not only a waste of time (we're going to hell anyways), and that it was too early. We went all "cheerleader" on the cars ... we took these red window marker things, and wrote on the back and side windows of the cars. I have photos, don't worry. Our work was masterful, and funny, and artistic ... till A turned on the back windshield wiper and smeared our artwork all to hell. Whoops. It looked like a bloodbath down the back of the CR-V! You should have seen the looks we garnered from others on the road ...

Driving there was fun, because we had walkie-talkies to chat from car to car. We had many shining moments of comedy, but Christ I can't remember them all. One involved the circa 1992 Miss America Trading Cards (they had Miss Ohio '93, Robin Meade ... she of CNN fame ... in there). And one involved Mombi having to pee so badly that we pulled off the side of the road in some industrial park in New Jersey. She tipped up on a tree, and just let it fly. At least she had the presence of mind to take a napkin with her ... we all found this particularly hysterical. JK puts in Coldplay to spin as we're going through Philly, and I'm pretty sure that Miata just about turned herself inside out. She was thrilled when we changed the CD.

So, we pull into Atlantic City at about 3:30. We drop the girls off at the hotel to check in, and Mombi and I cruise to drop off the other car at Sands (could only park one car per suite at the hotel), and to go pick up our parade tickets. While we were out gallavanting around the streets of Atlantic City, the elevators in the hotel were having some malfunctions (only two of the three appeared to be working, so they were overloaded). JK, L, and A get all freaked out and get out of the elevator. They decide to take the steps instead. TWENTY FLIGHTS OF THEM. Mombi and I get back, and we head upstairs. To the 31st floor. THE F-ING PENTHOUSE. Can I get a "hell yeah" for A's mad hotel reservation skills?

At this point, we decide that it is high time for the games to begin. Mombi set about cookin up some ROCKIN mojitos (my new favorite drink, even more so than a Cosmo). We toasted to The Others, and started drinking. We filled up some Dasani and Aquafina bottles with mojitos (mine was the big bottle, not the wussy 20 ouncer), and headed down just as the parade was starting. We got some photos of our group (which you've already seen), and watched the parade. They had the former Miss America's in the parade, and JK was lucky enough to get her photo with Susan Perkins (reference for you non-purists: the most recent Miss America from Ohio, and her local title is JK's current and final local title). It was much like JK meeting Elvis or something. Her weekend was complete at that point. Mombi also got a photo of her with the current Miss New Jersey, whom we have all agreed is her doppleganger. This was all amusing.

Then, we got up and headed down the boardwalk to meet up with Ree, Miss Ohio's Boyfriend (Mr. Ohio, for short), and Miss Ohio's Brother (MOB for short). We stumbled down the boardwalk, and Mombi lit a smoke. I must have had this pouty look on my face because she looks at me and goes "what?" and I say ... "can I have one? pleeeeease?". She then proceeds to tell me how she wasn't going to offer, lest I brand her as a bad influence for making me smoke. I tell her that even though I quit in May of 1995, that I wasn't technically falling off the wagon as I hadn't bought the pack myself. Ahh, the Queen Of Rationalization strikes again. I then proceed to curse her lighter, manage to light one, and we all run into Mr. Ohio and MOB (with AM, more on her later). Hugging and shrieking ensues, and I damn near burn Mr. Ohio with my smoke. He frowns at me, then I hand him my bottle of mojitos. I tell him to take a drink and he says he's not thirsty. I yell at him "JUST DRINK THE FUCKING WATER ALREADY" and it then dawns on him that it's liquor. He's a little slow on the uptake sometimes. Ree bops over, and we hand her the bit that's left in my bottle, and we finish it off. We send some of The Others back to the suite (did I mention we were in the penthouse ...), and I work on occupying Mombi and AC to give them enough time to set up the festivities. We had planned an impromptu bachelorette party for them, and there were fun things to set up. A half hour passes, I toy with going to NYC with Papparose (my former vocal coach) to see Deborah Gibson's cabaret show, and then decide that beer and cigarettes are infinitely more fun.

Off we go, back to the suite under the ruse of changing our clothes. We get back, surprise Mombi and AC, do some shots, and get ready to go out. L is plowed, I'm fairly loaded, and AC was workin on a good buzz. I'm pretty sure the rest of them were too, but those few instances are all I can remember completely. I put on a slinky black shirt and The Bra, stole a little nip of vodka (YAY FOR VODKA), and out the door we stumbled. We were in search of a kareoke bar, and we asked the rolling chair guys where to go. They said that Opa had it, so we were going to walk, then they talked us into taking the chairs ... they overcharged us, and we were uber pissed. And to make matters worse, Opa had no kareoke. Fuckers. Mombi starts the whole "wah I'm tired" thing (in her defense, she had been driving all day), and will only stay out to party with us if JK says "fuck". JK lets it fly, and we are all just dying with laughter because this is not normal behavior for JK, NOT AT ALL. We then are on the hunt for a bar to crash ... at this point, my cell rings and it's Mr. Ohio, MOB, and AM. We then decide to go to this place called the Bikini Bar, across the boardwalk from Bally's, on the beach. Why? Because it was the first place we saw.

We stumble in there, and the DJ is playing something (I can't recall what). I go to the bar, start a tab, get a beer, steal another one of Mombi's smokes (this is a recurring theme of the evening, can you tell ...), and we hunt for a table. We are unlucky, so we dance while holding our purses and stuff. Then, the band starts. They were pretty good, covered a lot of Maroon 5 and John Mayer and that type of stuff. Some of the girls find a table, we dump our purses with those not dancing, and proceed to get wild. Mombi and the singer from the band (who was super cute in his Yankees cap) were having cheer-sex (if you don't know what that is, I order you to watch "Bring It On"). They drug Mombi and AC on stage, and at that point the boys and AM show up. I head to the bar, add two more beers to my tab (me and Mombi), and stand there as AM starts doing shots with Mr. Ohio. A wicked funny prank was played on her, as she was given whisky to shoot instead of "something fruity". It was either Beam or Maker's, as I faintly recall both bottles sitting on the bar and thinking "mmm. Maker's. You know, I really should call TheBoy, he likes Maker's. You know what, I really like him. Damn it. *insert drunk and A.D.D.-raddled pause* OK, that guy over there at that table is cute. Really cute. Fuck, he's married. *pause again* Wow, I need another beer, did I drink that one already? *pause* Where are my shoes? Did I take them off?"

Meanwhile, AM takes the glass and shoots it, and then proceeds to nearly throw up. It is said that I had this look on my face like "bitch, if you puke on me, you'll be sorry". I polish off that beer in short order, and get "just one more" ... that means, I had one AFTER that too. Walk back over to the table, get into a discussion about The Bra with MOB and Mr. Ohio, and both of them promptly (and in stereo) cop a feel. Nice, boys. If I wasn't fucked-in-half drunk at that point, I would have decked them. Instead, I find this hysterically funny, and finger-wagging mock-scold them for grabbing my boobs without asking first. MOB proceeds to all but dry-hump AM (who is NOT one of The Others, she's the quintessential "good girl"), and she loudly announces that she and MOB are going to get drunk and go skinny dipping. Umm, honey ... you are already well past drunk, but thanks for publicizing your game plan. The band wraps up their set at midnight, and we decide that the music they play afterwards is sub-standard and intolerable, and we head on over to Bally's to play for a little while. It is at this point that I lose track of the events of the evening, attempt to drunk-dial TheBoy (who is on sabbatical in a yet-to-be-named Midwestern city), and slur something really horrid into the phone, I assume. More cigarettes are smoked. L and AM are blitzed, as am I. Everyone else had a fair amount of buzz going on, and some decided to turn in for the night. We then wandered around for a little while, went down to the beach and talked for about an hour, then walked around. Z turned some cartwheels in the sand (why I remember this is beyond me), Miata froze her ass off, and I just sat there in my own little place with a million thoughts running through my brain. We decided we were cold, and that we wanted to do something else now.

We then walked back up to the boardwalk, and started to mill about in a drunken stupor ... trying to decide what to do next. A discussion of anal sex ensued, revelations about a few of the group had been made, and we decided that we are really tired. So we take the elevator back up to the 31st floor and crash in the hallway to chat and drink the rest of our stuff. The security guard comes up and yells at us, so we decide to call it a night. This is at 3:30 AM. I had, at this point, been awake for a total of 22 hours. I apparently had the presence of mind to blow up my air mattress before going out (when did I do that?), and threw on my PJs and passed out face-first. I also vaguely remember letting MOB and AM crash in our foyer, as they were far too intoxicated to make it back down to the Trump Plaza without escorts. Plus, in AM's state of "diminished capacity", it was not a good idea to let her alone with MOB. I fell asleep while looking out the window, down onto the empty boardwalk ... lined with glittering casinos lit up in the night.