Umm... A Saturday Recap Attempt

I adore Michelle. She was one of the four neighborhood girls growing up, and we always had fun. We’d write, spy, dream of far off places. But then she moved away.

Somehow, we kept in sporadic touch. It wasn’t until a recent pit stop in DC that we really reconnected, and I realized how much we had in common. So naturally I’ve been looking forward to her visit for quite a long time.

I had no idea how crazy it’d be.

We hung out at the apartment for awhile before heading into Harvard Square. She requested a place where we could get cheap drinks (nearly impossible in this town), and/or a bar where we’d be comfortable without dressing up, but someplace where we could dance. To me, that means $5 margaritas at Border Cafe followed by drafts & dancing at Tommy Doyles.

HILARIOUS.

Cosa and her boyfriend, Steve, met us at Borders, and we chatted over cheese quesadillas and nachos. Then to Tommys… We walked up to the bouncer (who was collecting a $2 cover charge — why bother?!) and Michelle winks & says, “Can we get a group rate?”

The bouncer laughed. She held strong.

“How many are you?” he asked, his voice thick with a Caribbean accent.

“5.”

“Four hot ladies & just one man,” I added.

“In that case, sure. How much you got?” A few dollars later and we were in.


I always thought I could dance. But then I watched Michelle.

That girl can MOVE! The moment she stepped on the dance floor was the moment men started appeared out of no where. I think they crawled out of the woodwork. Men ditched the girls they had previously been drooling over to come watch Michelle. But she, being so “international” in focus, picked the curly haired Brazilian who didn’t speak English. She’s fluent in Spanish, so somewhere between that and his Portuguese they managed some kind of conversation. All night. He told her his friends wanted to dance with her friends.

Which is when I quickly retreated to the bar with Cosa and Steve.

It was around this time when Cosa and Steve recognized the boyfriend of one of their friends. This kid, Richie, was native to East Cambridge; tough, tattooed, rough around the edges. But nice. The four of us hung out until closing time… when the Brazilians would not release Michelle and her friend from their charming conversation.

So I asked this Richie to break it up. It didn’t take much. He walked over, crossed his muscular arms, and said: “Girls, if you want a ride, we’re leaving now.” The men, scared, turned away. Michelle & her friend, eager to get off their feet, came over.

And so we hopped in his car. Somehow it made sense to drop Cosa and Steve off first. “They’re most out of the way.” I guess?

But on the way from Allston to Porter Square, the boys decided they were hungry. “Pizza, anyone?”

We were hungry too, but never have I had a weirder late-night experience. We entered a trashy pizza place in sketchy Central Square. Homeless drunks begged outside. Indoors, two police officers kept watch. And I was the only white person in the place. And having grown up in the country, I’m really really white.

Soon Michelle’s friend was speaking German to some Eastern European immigrant. Michelle was chatting away in Spanish to two guys behind her. And I just huddled close to Richie, trying not to seem too out of place. “Um, can we go home now?”

No one listened until the shop owner said they were locking the doors for the night. So we piled into the car and they dropped us off not far from home.

We walked around the corner & down the street to my apartment, and never have I felt so relieved to walk into my own space.

What a night.


And by 8:30 this morning, Michelle & her friend were gone. I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.