Sunday, July 23, 2006

Pirates treasure chests


Aye, I recently saw a Pirates of the Caribbean lovin' friend of yore who took this hysterical photo of herself at the Sandbar in Lawrence. We were celebrating the final days of bachelorettehood for a dear friend whom at many times throughout the evening contagiously stole the gazes of mates and their lassies with her fun-loving spirit. She's my Oprah-friend as I like to call her. She physically doesn't resemble Oprah, but I am so often amazed at how magnetic, full of light, and openminded she is. When I see her, I see Oprah and when I see Oprah, I see her. Its an inward-thing that projects outward. Her sensitivity toward others' differences is mature beyond most, perhaps only matched by Oprah, and me of course :) Oh, and by others whom I can't wait to meet. She's a great and beautiful person both inside and out. Very much like a sister. She's the kind of friend who everyone would want as a friend if they only knew. Just like the Vietnamese restaurant in Westport named Sung Son, her friendship is the best-kept secret in Kansas City. Which leads me to this:

I was prepared to have an absolute blast at the Sandbar dancing the night away with my friend. But something came over me in the biggest-most-heartfelt way when I saw her jump up on the windowsill to give her best-rocked out version to every Journey-esque song that played on the jukebox at the beginning of the night. Tears gushed down my face. Not sure why really. Perhaps it was because I know she deserves the happiness of true love. Perhaps it was because I treasure just knowing her and being able to claim all the memories we've shared together. What I do know is that it wasn't a cry of sadness or loss, but more of a rejoicing in my friend's good fortune and my good fortune for ever having met her. I would have loved to have spent more time with her over the past year during her engagement if I could have.

The trouble was, however, that I could not contain this overwhelming feeling for more than five minutes at a time. I was in and out of the mermaids' room most of the night, trying desperately to re-apply my makeup each time so that I could emerge as a dancing wild-woman with her. But I never quite made it. The last thing I wanted my friend to see was me bawling like I was for her happiness and then having to explain what I was feeling when I couldn't even put it into words, and I'm almost positive she would have mistaken the teary-eyed cringed look on my face as something other than what it was. So instead, I stayed in a little nook directly between the mermaid's room and the bar. I can't tell you how many drinks I ordered from the bartender with tears actively streaming down my face. There is a line in Vanilla Sky that goes, "I think she's the saddest girl ever to hold a martini." Well, I definitely topped that one for I was the weepiest girl ever to consume three or four bahama mamas and there is nothing sad about about that drink except perhaps the calories and the carbs.

4 comments:

NCTRNL said...

You should never cry at the Sandbar...

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