Zombie Prostitute

 

"She was a rotten kind of cute" 😉 Zombie Prostitute - Voltaire 

     I am newly divorced, as you may or may not know. Halloween was a HUGE deal for my ex and I. We always had elaborate costumes that took a long time to make and big Halloween plans. This year I am feeling a little unsure of what to do, but my friend is a trooper and offers to go do something for Halloween.

     I keep clicking on "interested" on Facebook for all kinds of Halloween plans. There are two speakeasy events. The one we should have attended is already sold out. No matter, we decide to go to the one that is in the basement of the Terminal bar. The costumes are easy because I have several vintage and 1920's style dresses. We are going to go as zombies. What could go wrong?

     We look fine, well for zombies.

     The evening is going to involve cocktails, so we decide to take an Uber. My house is really hard to find, so we are waiting on the corner for the Uber. A car pulls up and a woman unrolls her window. 

     "What are you doing here?" she asks. 

     I tell her, although it is none of her business, that we are waiting for our Uber. She informs us that this neighborhood is mostly older people. I stare into her judging elderly eyes and tell her "I AM an older person." 

     Oh yes, that is such a fun way to start an evening out. I tell her that I had lived around here for the last two years. 

     She sniffs and says "Well I am concerned with all the things happening around here." She rolls her window back up and drives away. I wonder what things "have been happening around here."  

     Then it dawns on me. She thinks that we are zombie prostitutes! Of course zombie prostitutes in a neighborhood filled with senior people. I am open to dating someone older, but I draw the line at being a call girl for Viagra users who have a thing for zombies. A lady must have her standards!

     The Uber arrives and our driver is great, so that is good news. We chat about how we are going out to a bar since I am recently divorced. He suggests that I have a divorce party. Is that a thing? Apparently yes, Google it. They have party games and cakes. This is my favorite since it seems to depict a loud guy. I can relate.We arrive at the Terminal bar, which is a teeny bar in Union station. The actual party is downstairs. There were huge lines to get in and even bigger lines at the bar. 

     As we are being let in, dude number one pushes me and says "I just want to go in." 

     Um yeah buddy, so does everyone else. This might be a good time to mention that older people don't go to this bar. Meh, fine. I am not planning to engage anyone anyway. My friend helpfully suggests that next time we could go to a bar with older people. Yeah, older dudes, surely are better. 😉

     Dude number two is dressed as Oogy Boogy from Nightmare before Christmas. He comes running up to us and gives my friend several fist bumps. Glad it was my friend, because she is a much better sport than I am. Why is he a douche? Because he keeps doing it. What the Hell is wrong with people? He's not drunk from the party, because the bar just opened. Must be a natural douche.    

     Dude number three bumps up against me and apologizes for cutting in front of me, which he doesn't because I am waiting for my friend who is already getting our drinks. He then decides to engage me in small talk. Big mistake buddy. 

     "Are you here with your friend or?" he says. 

     "Yeah with my friend" I respond. 

     "Nice costume" he says to my chest. 

     I wish I had gotten those zombie contact lenses because this would be the perfect time to say "My eyes are up here." I look at his black t-shirt with disinterest, but I manage to ask 

     "Where is your costume?" 

     I hope my friend gets those drinks soon and I am really glad I ordered a whiskey on the rocks. I will need it. He comes up with elaborate story about not having a costume. I grab my drink from my friend and we make a quick exit from Douche number three.

     The decorations are nice, but not much dancing is happening. The bar seems full of little groups of people who already know each other. The good news is that the drinks are really strong. I don't think I like bars. I think we will try a few more, like Milk bar, but this is lame.

     We leave and our Uber driver tells us this is his first night. And....it shows. He is very nervous. He decides to calm his nerves by telling us his life story while playing yacht rock. It turns out he is in two bands and he hands me his business card for his bands. Is that a thing? I like checking out local music, so that's okay. I ask what he plays and what kind of music. He plays the base. He plays "dad rock". He means what I call "rock". 

     I think the scariest thing this Halloween is how old I am. Maybe I should reconsider the whole senior citizen zombie call girl thing.