Come on Barbie, Let’s Go Party

Posted: August 24, 2011 by VT in Daily Ramblings

So the divebardiva and I were having one of our marathon three-hour skype-n-wine nights, and we were reminiscing about some of the out-of-control times we’ve experienced. I was regaling my favorite South Beach story, and she was laughing so hard I thought she might pee herself. She made me promise to share the tale with our fabulous and loyal readers.

Before we get into it, I want to respond to the folks out there who think we exaggerate or make this shit up. It’s just not the case. One of the reasons we started this little blog was because of the craaazy shenanigans we’ve experienced or witnessed whenever adult beverages are involved. Bottom line: We don’t need to lie. Our truth is MUCH more interesting than fiction.

Okay, now back to our regularly scheduled program …

On this particular weekend, two of my friends were having birthdays. For this post, I’ll call them Ken and Barbie. Ken used to be my manager. Back in the day, he was a hard-drinkin, good-lookin, fun-lovin homo. Barbie was my coworker at the time. She was a petite pretty blonde with big blue eyes and a perpetual tan. Much like a Barbie doll.

We decided to celebrate the two birthdays with a South Beach overnight excursion. I was in charge of the hotel room.

I called all of our usual haunts, and no rooms were available. There was some sort of big event going on in the MIA. I was running out of options when I decided to call a hotel I had seen before but never stayed in. I knew it wasn’t the nicest place, but it’s in a fabulous location. And I figured it couldn’t be that bad. Besides, we weren’t going to be in the room very much anyway.

So I called and made a reservation. I was actually excited because it was so damn cheap. More money for shots!

Not exactly the dream house we were hoping for

So the day of the party arrived, and me and one of my bitches headed down to get everything ready. The rest of the group was going to hook up with us a few hours later. We got to the “hotel,” and I immediately wished I had done more research. The place was a dump. But I had already told everyone where to meet us so I couldn’t back out.

I went to the front desk and met Paco, the manager. He was overly nice and seemed excited to have someone other than hookers and crack addicts staying in his establishment. I went to give him my credit card but he asked for cash instead. No problem. I whipped out the bills and handed them to him. He gave me a room key and told me to call him — wink, wink — if I needed anything.

“Don’t I need to sign something?” I asked.

“Sweetheart,” he said in his thick Hispanic accent. “I gotchu covered.” This was followed by another wink.

Whatever, I thought.

We headed up to the room. It was on the third floor and the building didn’t have an elevator. On the way, we passed a couple rooms with the doors wide open. We could see some seedy characters inside doing their thing. In one, I saw a half-naked man soaking his feet in a bucket. WTF?

We got to our room and walked in. It had two beds, a kitchenette and a small table with two chairs. I realized this place was more pay-by-the-week than a traditional hotel. Oh well. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was gonna have to do.

We got busy decorating for the party. Of course, we had a Barbie and Ken theme. I had pink and blue balloons and streamers. And I had made platters of pink and blue jello shots. But that wasn’t all. I also brought Barbie and Ken posters, a pink and blue cake and Barbie and Ken dolls to give out as party favors.

Now children-themed parties aren’t usually my thing. But we thought a G-rated theme would be a silly and fun kickoff for the NC-17 clubbing that was to follow.

Because the room was so sad, we decorated the hell out of it. When we were done, it looked creepily similar to a 5-year-old girls’ bedroom. It was plastered in baby blue and pink. And the posters of Ken and Barbie in a convertible, on the beach and in the RV were a nice finishing touch.

Who invited these guys?

We set out the cake and positioned the dolls around it. And then we waited for the crew to arrive. We knew it would be about an hour before they got there.

Suddenly, there was a loud BAM, BAM, BAM on our door. What the hell?

“Ummm … who is it?” I asked.

“F.B.I. Open up!” was the reply.

I glanced at my friend and she looked scared shitless. I slowly opened the door a crack and peeked out.

There were two men in dark suits at the door. They were both displaying their badges.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Miss, open the door. We need to talk to you.”

I opened the door all the way.

“Have you seen the man staying in the room next door?” one of the agents asked.

“No.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes. We just got here a little while ago. We haven’t seen anyone.”

The agent handed me a card. “If you see him, call us immediately. Do not, under any circumstances, approach or speak to this man. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir. We’ll be sure to call if we see anything.”

“Thank you, Miss. Have a good evening.”

As I was closing the door, I saw the agents look past me into our room. The look of WTF confusion on their face was priceless. There we were — two 20-something girls — surrounded by pink and blue party decorations and Barbie and Ken props. It looked completely and utterly ridiculous.

I closed the door as fast as I could before me and my bitch fell on the bed screaming with laughter. The FBI? Really??? You know you’re in a shady place when the Federal Bureau of Investigations shows up at your door.

Finally, the other folks arrived and the party went into full swing. The theme was a huge hit with the birthday twosome. We cranked up the tunes and did a plethora of jello shots.

I think Ken’s on the VIP list

Around midnight, it was time to hit the town. We all left our dolls in the room except birthday boy Ken who insisted on bringing his. At the club, he walked right to the front of the line, and waved the doll in the bouncer’s face.

“Ken never waits in line!” he proclaimed.

“Well, he does tonight,” was the reply.

Several hours later, we stumbled back to the room to pass out — except for one girl who actually phoned a friend to ask if she could get a ride back home. The “hotel” freaked her out that much.

The great escape

We woke up the next morning to pretty nasty hangovers. We slowly started to gather our stuff to leave. I took a look around the room and realized we needed to seriously clean the room. It was bad. At some point, I think there may have been a jello shot fight. At least that’s what it looked like.

I went to start scrubbing but then I remembered that I paid in cash. The hotel had no contact information for me …  not even my driver’s license.

“Fuck it,” I thought. “We didn’t break anything. The room just needs a good cleaning.”

We packed our shit and left. On our way to the parking lot, I stopped by and returned the key to the front desk. Paco was behind the counter talking on the phone. He smiled and signaled for me to wait. I pretended like I didn’t understand, waved goodbye and headed out the front door.

We were getting in the car when Paco came running out. “Sweetie! Sweetie! Was everything OK with your stay? I hope we see you soon.”

“Everything was great. Thanks,” I replied, eager to get the hell out of there.

Then Ken spoke up. “Uh oh. I think I left my jacket in the room.”

“Shit,” I said. “Well, I guess you have to go back up and get it.”

Ken then turned to Paco. “Can I get a key to get back in the room?” he asked.

“That’s okay,” Paco replied. “I’ll take you up.”

Now this was a problem. A really big problem. We had left the room in a bad state. And I was pretty sure Paco wasn’t going to appreciate the jello shooter remnants on the walls, table, etc.

Ken looked nervous. I could tell he was thinking the same.

“Uh … okay. Great.” Ken turned to me and hissed, “Start the car. NOW.”

The two headed back into the hotel and I quickly got everyone’s bags in the trunk. “Get in,” I said. I started the car, pulled out of the parking space and sat waiting for Ken’s return.

A couple minutes later, Ken came tearing out of the hotel clutching his jacket. He was sweaty and panting like a dog. The run up and down three flights of stairs was way too strenuous for his hungover ass. He was about 50 feet away from the car. “Go! Go! Go!” he yelled.

Paco suddenly appeared behind him. He was equally sweaty and panting, and he was screaming, “JU WILL PAY! JU WILL PAY!” over and over.

I started driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other opening the passenger door. Ken was running with all his might, desperately trying to catch up. I had a sudden evil thought to take off and leave his ass there. hee hee. But I didn’t, and he eventually made it to the car and jumped in.

As we sped off, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Paco standing in the middle of the road in his cutoff sweatpants and stained wifebeater. His face was bright red and he was shaking his fist in the air.

Of course, we never returned. And ironically, that hotel has been completely renovated, and it’s now one of the toniest hotels on South Beach. One of these days, I’ll have to check it out. I’m fairly certain Paco is no longer employed there.

Grow old disgracefully,
Vodka Toxic

Advertisements
Comments
  1. Edna says:

    I was a partay participant during the Ken and Barbie extravaganza and it was all that Vodka Toxic claimed it was. Great times! Didn’t we find hair dye under the sink? Another fugitive on the run from the FBI – maybe!

  2. Server X says:

    In response to the people thinking all this is made up or played up, we indeed play A LOT of this down because some of it is so offensive we don’t feel comfortable repeating.

  3. divebardiva says:

    This is and will always be one of my favorite South Beach stories…even tho I wasn’t there…I can vividly picture the whole thing. Fantastic.

  4. Kelly K says:

    As I have been a eye witness, and sometimes participant, to most of these stories, I will let you know, it is true every last word OF IT!!!!!
    So true in fact, I was invited to South Beach to celebrate my upcoming 40th bday and declined because when vodka toxic and dive bar diva get together it will get ugly.
    Yes server X, we do tone it down because most people couldn’t handle the truth!!!!
    Love to you all,
    5 dog fabulous

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s