Lucky Number “Tree”–Pt. 1

It’s your typical Friday night in the big city: distant siren sounds, slow side-street traffic, and the smell of Love Spell around every corner.  To many, this is a recipe for disaster, but it seemed like the beginning of an eventful night to me. Boy. Was I right.

I arrived at a popular spot on Highland/Hollywood just before 10 0’oclock. Everybody knows the guest list closes at 10:30P. I stood in line with 3-7 “new friends,” which are pretty women I spark conversations with so it doesn’t appear that I rolled solo. We’re in line shivering and smiling in a huddle, and hoping the doorman picks us next to go in. Now’s a good time to point out how every car at the stoplight turned to a ‘good’ song then blasted their radios. Why do people do that?

At this point it’s 10:45P and I’m randomly texting a girlfriend about the ratchetness I just saw: a stretch Hummer with butterfly doors and at least 12 wheels…each with 24″ rims…pulls in front of us. All the gold-diggers standing outside got quiet. Out jumps a group of bums, pure bums! The girls had on the latest spring fashions from Wet Seal and the guys were in flannel shirts & Timberlands. One of them even had prison-like (aka fuzzy, messy, and crooked) braids. I was waiting to see Snoop emerge from the cloud of smoke behind them, but no. Just an [un-named] NFL player whose birthday party it was.

We finally get inside at the discounted rate of $10 (thanks to the guest list…smh) and of course, the place is near empty. That explains the line out the door.

After maybe 2 songs, I find myself standing near the wall & eyeing the men in the room. This was by far the tallest collection of guys in LA I’ve ever seen. Guy #1 approaches me with a classic don’t-you-wanna-let-me-dance-behind-you attitude while sipping his drink. I veered right. He says, “Aw, don’t be like that!” I simply gave a ‘no thanks’ through what was left of my lips since his breath had just melted my face. No. Thanks.

Minutes later, Guy #2 comes up to me to ask am I having a good time. I shook my head, “I’m not feeling this DJ, I don’t dance to Yung Berg.” This somewhat handsome dude smiled, “Well I’m having a 90s party next weekend, you should come through. I do party promotions.” If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you kindly accept the flyer and they go away! I stuffed it way down into my purse.

Once the Wobble and Cupid Shuffle songs got me going, my ankles started talking. It’s time to sit down. As I’m resting on a couch in the VIP section (did you really think anyone would be in VIP?), Guy #3 strolls by, stops, and reverses. He is at least 6-feet and some change, but I couldn’t tell how much change while sitting. He’s actually quite attractive, too. He reached out his hand, “Um, please tell me why a beautiful lady like you is all by herself?” I pointed to my shoes, “Gotta give these feet a rest.” He’s still holding my hand, I’m somewhat charmed. Guy #3 is a bouncer and his suit/tie look was very refreshing to me.

A few seconds later, he says he’d like to get to know me better and I should enter my number in his phone. Handed me his Blackberry. Now, I’m more charmed by Guy #3. Third time’s a charm, right?

I ended the night by heading to the bar for a nice glass of water and my last shot at these tall dudes. Not even a full minute goes by as I place the straw to my mouth–Guy #4 is staring me up and down. He’s also 3-inches too close to me and I’m getting upset. By the look of his bloodshot red eyes and flannel shirt, whatever he’s about to say will be classic.

“Ay. You got ass, though.”

That was it. I gave a nod, turned back around and faced the bartender. He’s still talking to the back of my head about how he’s from Kansas City and here in LA to have a good time this weekend. And asked for my number. But I knew Guy #4 wouldn’t walk away without a fight. I grabbed his phone from his hand, typed 310-555-1134 under new contact ‘Terri’ and told him to call me anytime. He smiled and walked away.

–Read “Lucky Number “Tree”–Pt.2″ for the rest!!!

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