Monday, July 16, 2012

A Gig At Shecky's In The Hamptons

What's better than going to Shecky's in the Hamptons?  Going to Shecky's in the Hamptons and getting to write about it for Shecky's.  Yeah, that's right.  I was the Spotted Blogger for the event.  That means I got to get VIP tickets and a goodie bag in exchange for my writing abilities.  The day was, of course, very hot.  Everything I do outside this summer is on a very hot day.  Despite the heat, T, D, and I spent the day walking around the grounds, sipping alcohol, and looking at pretty glittery things.   

Having VIP tickets meant not waiting on line.  However, that was tricky because the walkway into the place had people on line already.  So there I was, excuse me excuse me, weaving my way to the security people to ask about where to go.  One girl on line did not like my Excuse Me Weaving.  She said to me, There's a line here actually.   As if I did not see the line and did not know I was cutting the line.  I said to her, I know--I have to ask someone a question and my friends are back there so I'm obviously not ditching them to cut the line. 

Then?  We all three cut the line because the security woman told me to get my friends and come right back to her because VIPs don't wait.  Yeah, that's right There's A Line Lady.  Take that.  So D and T did the Excuse Me Weave too and we stepped past the line.  The security woman told me that I could go to the tent or see the gentleman with the wristbands first if I wanted to drink.  I laughed at her and she said, Yes, of course, see the gentleman with the wristbands first.  Who doesn't want to drink for free?  Seriously. 

We quickly got our wristbands and signed in, the girl at the table giving me only a little bit of a hard time when I told her I was supposed to get a free bag.  I guess it wasn't in the computer, but I had all the emails about what I was supposed to get, so it wasn't much of a problem.  We went to sign up for the mixology class and then headed over to get drinks.  We sipped some Honest Tea and then had Veev drinks.  We had our picture taken in front of the Shecky's banner.  The photographer was like, get closer ladies, and we were like, It's hot!  Everyone was sweating.  Everyone.  It was gross.  Then it was already time for class.

We stood outside of the tent for a good while waiting for nothing in particular.  They seemed to be set up, but we were standing in the sun.  Sweating.  Profusely.  Gross. 

We made the same drink we'd made last year.  The guy instructing us, however, was different.  He was reading about what to do from a piece of paper.  He really didn't know what he was doing.  He'd probably just shown up that day and they said, Go in that tent and read from that paper.  It wasn't so difficult, though.  No one really cared about the history of the margarita.  Okay, I thought it was interesting, but for the most part, everyone was there to mix and drink the margarita, not learn about it. 

While mixing the drink, I decided to hold some ice.  It felt good because it was cold.  I let it drip down my shirt, making my shirt wet, but really that didn't matter since it was wet from sweat already.  Then I let it melt over my feet and it felt good.  We made our margaritas using various amounts of Cointreau and tequila and then drank only half of them.  I would have rather made a different drink, but I guess that's the easiest.  Or the cheapest.

At the end, I asked the instructor if I could get a picture of him holding up the Cointreau.  He got a sly little grin and T immediately piped up: She's not hitting on you.  Heheheheeee.  In finding out that I was asking for my writing gig, he talked it up with T and D instead.  I guess he didn't really realize that none of us were hitting on him.  Young, pretty boys think everyone is hitting on them.

We made our rounds, checking out cute bags and cute earrings and cute clothes.  We kept drinking, too.  While standing in line, the wind picked up and T was like, Be careful that sign doesn't fall on you.  Two seconds later, the sign fell over.  Then someone picked it up.  And then it fell again.  And then someone picked it back up.  This was stupid.

The coolest moment--temperature-wise--was when T stopped a group of women who were wearing one of the feather head-pieces that one of the booths was selling so I could take a picture.  I told them I was writing a piece about the event and needed a picture of them holding their bags.  They complied and when I was about to take a picture, someone cut between us all.  I stepped back to get out of the way and as I did, I spilled almost an entire glass of Reisling down the front of my shirt.

Oooh, it felt sooooo gooooooood!

T said not to worry, that it looked like I was sweating.  Which I was.  So now I was sweet and salty all at once.  Very pretty.

I finished taking the picture and then we mingled with more booths.  I realized that neither bag I'd picked up had a book.  I knew some of the bags had books so I headed over to the bag people.  I explained that I was writing about the event and just wanted to know what books they were giving away--I didn't need one and I wasn't complaining.  I just wanted to be informed.

It's amazing what a little conversation can get you.  One of the guys asked another to throw him the last book they had.  The guy chucked it at this guy's head.  Then this guy handed it to me.  I asked if he needed it back.  He told me to keep it.  I took all their pictures.  It was an even exchange. 

Then we talked to a guy who had on a fedora and was handing them out.  I guess the staff had some extras so T got one, too.  Then D asked the security guy to take our picture and he did.  Then rain sprinkled for half a second.  Then we left.  Another Hamptons in the books.

Oh, and did I mention our encounter with the 2-D version of Dita Von Tees?

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