Monday, June 28, 2004

Water. Shirtless Men. Janet Jackson. Medical Tent.

That was my Sunday.

The rugby team worked the Pier Dance (aka Dance 18) this weekend manning the only bar on the entire pier that was not selling alcohol. Of course this meant that everyone who came to us looking for beer or mixed drinks had to go elsewhere which meant lost revenue and tips for us...but we did fine...

Janet Jackson was the "surprise" guest (although I don't know how much of a surprise it could have been since pretty much everyone knew she was going to be there) and I had my own little diva moment of my own that was Janet related...and yes, it does involve today's quote...

I had to go to the bathroom and, working the dance, there were two areas set aside for workers to go when...well...when they had to go. I went to the one nearest our booth. They directed me all the way down to the other end of the pier where this nice woman pointed me in the direction of the facilities. Then she wouldn't let me back down the path to our bar. I was to be held in this one position for 20 minutes and wouldn't be allowed to move until Janet was on stage, had sung, and then left.

I said fuck that and decided to take my chances on making my way through the crowd.

Bad idea.

Having never been to the pier dance before (and by that I mean the actual on the pier portion, not working coat check like we did last year) I didn't realize how wall-to-wall flesh it was out there and how hard it would be to get through. This total cute hot-ass guy was in front of me politely trying to get through and I was following him. Some how I managed to get in front of him and we stalled out and couldn't get through anymore.

I turned to him and said, "You're feeling sick right now aren't you?"

His response, "Huh?"

"Just follow me." With that I turned to the crowd and began my chant of how we were taking someone to the medical tent and we needed to get through the crowd. Sure enough, the crowds parted because, DEAR LORD(!), someone might have been in a k-hole and needed immediate attention. Granted, I wasn't wearing the red medical shirt nor and I was holding by headset up in the air and the guys were probably blitzed out of their mind to really care.

In the middle of it all, hot ass leaned into me and said, "God, I love you."

At this point, I should have asked for a kiss on the cheek for him to prove his love, but I was just so tired I wanted to be out of the crowd and in my own little world of Bar #2 where I guzzled three Red Bulls before we started on cleaning the place up.

When Janet Jackson left, she was sitting on the window facing the crowd rather than the river so we had a nice clear view of her. She smiled and blew us a kiss and then of course the jokes began about how she was just so overcome by meeting (as the New York Post put it and left me laughing my ass off...) the "famous" Gotham Knights Rugby Football Club. ("Famous?" was my immediate reaction to seeing that blurb...)

I have no idea how much we brought in through tips, but I can say that my feet REALLY hurt today...but I did look smashing in my Utilikilt...

Oh and for the third year, I did a "boob count" on the march although this year I had to allocate that task to someone else as I was working the dance and couldn't march. The number of pairs of exposed women's boobs along the parade route as witnessed by Jorge was six this year. This is a 50% increase of the 4 sets seen last year and miles above the lone pair I saw during my first march...

Boobs...gotta love 'em...

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