So… Friday (4/15) I had planned a night out for my girls and I. It was due time. They all hid during the winter time and now it was getting to be half way warm. So I figured it would be slightly easier to coax them out of their wintery shells. Me, Max, Vern, Jen, Shar and DB hit the street (not simultaneously, but eventually all of us). First stop: Deborah’s: Life. Love. Food.
And it was all of those things. I can always count on Deborah’s to really lay down the right atmosphere, the right food and the right spirits. We sat (Vern, DB, Shar & I) and ate and caught up on each other for the most part and just enjoyed each other’s company.
After a satisfying time at Deborah’s, hopped into a cab off to Dashing Divas which will hereunto be referred to as DISASTER DIVA Nail Salon.
*sigh* I did everything they told us to do on the site to assure a great experience. I RSVP’d over the phone to them that 4 of us would be there at 7:30. The conversation went like this:
Me: Hi, I’d like to make a reservation for 4 women for Friday please
Her: Okay, what time would you like to come in?
ME: Umm… how about 6?
Her: Nope. 6 is booked.
Me: Okay… how about 7:00?
Her: Nope. 6 is booked, 7 is booked, 8 is booked.
Me: Well… why the hell did you ask me??? Why don’t you tell me what’s available?
Her: Oh… sorry… okay… 7:30 is available.
Me: Great. We’ll take 7:30.
She took down the rest of my info and we hung up. Maybe that should have been my indicator. So… we walk in to this pink and white boutique illuminated with bright lights and motion. I walk up to the front desk and the woman looks up from her book and I start to say “Hi… we have an appt.” But before I could finish my statement, she said “Victoria? Hi! Welcome! Please pick out your colors and have a seat.” Hmmm. Efficient, I thought… So we eagerly went and picked out our colors and then tried finding seats… which there were none of. The place was PACKED with females. Some drinking wines. Some milling about. Most either getting their nails done or waiting to get their nails done. So we joined their ranks. This was at 7:39. At 8:00 when there were no signs of anyone getting to us about status, we went to talk to the ladies at the front desk; she told us there was a “Little Diva” party going on and that was what was holding up the manicurists / pedicurists in the back, but it should only take about another 20 minutes. Okay… fine. So we waited. Me thinking that perhaps we would leave if by 8:30 they hadn’t done anything. But the doors to Table 50 didn’t open till 9:00… so that wasn’t really an option.
On the website they advertised that cosmos were served on these “Girls Night Out” Thursday and Friday excursions… but I hadn’t seen a cosmo anywhere. Just various wines. When we asked about the liquor, they said they were out of cosmos for tonight and only had shiraz. Shar was UNHAPPY about this development. She had a cosmo on the brain. So I took the shiraz and drank it half heartedly, feeling a little woozy from my liquid lunch from earlier in the day. 8:45. What the ham sammich. By now, the “Little Divas” had been released from their pedicure chairs and manicure stations. There were about 10 of them. All little white girls. All with fingers and toes a-painted, buzzing about having cupcakes and orange juice. Of course their presence on a friday night when grown ass women are trying to get their groove on… eh… not a good mix. At 9:00, finally the woman at the front desk seats us at the pedicure station. I can’t think about anything else than their fabulously advertised “Virtual Nail” and their “Warm Blue Foot Slushee” that promised to get my feet ready for the Summer time. So… now that we were sitting at the pedicure station for 10 more minutes, the pedicurists come along and start to service us. I begin to tell my pedicurist about the pedicure I want…and she says…
“NO NO NO… that pedicure take 40 minutes. We close at 9 o’clock. I give you good regular pedicure”
I’ve been here since 7:30… are you KIDDING ME?????????????????
Now I was livid. And to add insult to injury, they’re telling us we can’t get our manicures either, because it would take too long at this point. And they close at 9:00. Why is that my concern? I’m getting all mad about it all over again. Finally the girl at the front desk comes back and tries to explain that tonight was especially jacked up because of the manager. And once she gets there, she’ll escort her back to speak to me about why they’re so fucked up. Then she figures that she’ll send the manicurists back to the pedicure station to do the manicures WHILE the pedicures are going. My manicurist gets there and asks me what shape I want my nails in. My nails, which I just cut down to nearly a nub the night before, in anticipation of my “virtual nail”. I asked her if it would be too much hassle to get the Virtual Nails put on this evening. And I was rudely reminded that they close at 9:00 and didn’t have time for me or my money. So I say to her, “I don’t need this manicure. I HAVE NO NAILS. What are you going to manicure? The stubs of my fingers???” I was so disgusted. So homegirl is giving me a pedicure… and the “Little Divas” (no, they haven’t left yet and it is 9:30 by now) have busted out into a full on sing-along. Everything from show tunes to the latest hip hop / r&b hits at the top of their lungs and as many times as they saw fit. I’ve never wanted to shake a child before… but this would have been a good time. Upon getting out of that chair and to the drying station, i realized that NO ONE was happy with their nail experience. Nails were uneven. Cuticles were flooded with paint. Paint was smudged and NO ONE wanted to fix it for them. It was HORRID. There is NOTHING that will make me want to go back to them EVER AGAIN
DASHING DIVAS NAIL SALON IS A DISASTER.
Once we freed ourselves of that location, we cabbed it over to Table 50. When we got in, the cover was 5 dollars… I paid for everyone who was with me, because I felt so HORRID about what had just happened, because it was my suggestion. We made it down the stairs and opened the doors. The bouncer checked the glowing stamp on the backs of our hands. I was the last one. Upon checking mine, he mumbled something to me. I said “excuse me?” and he repeated, “You’re gorgeous.” I, surprised (cause i truly didn’t expect that because the Disaster Diva situation had taken all joy, memories of how fly I was that night and sexual impluse RIGHT out of me, replied, “Thank you… thank you very much.” He continued with the, “what’s your name” and “can I have your number” lines. And I said no, and that I was just there to have a good time. I walked in and heard a familiar voice. JB was in the house and sippin on something already. So we all got drinks and were chatting. The dj was mediocre till Qool Marv got on the wheels of steel. I danced with JB for a little bit warming him up cause I was gonna feed him to the ladies. One man, 7 women. Something had to be done. Luckily for him, 4 of them left before it could get too serious. Jen and Vern were out because of exhaustion / had to catch a plane in the morning, respectively. D and Shar left because of exhaustion / catching a ride, respectively. So it left Max, Marie and myself. And we shared JB and I dare say he enjoyed being the meat of a voluptuous black woman sammich (or a triple decker, pending on the song). We were all a little tipsy and the music was pretty good and the release was had. Max hopped in a cab at the end of it all, Marie jumped on the train and JB and I shared a cab to the Q-Boro.
I sat on my bed at the end of it all happy to have shared the time with my friends; exhausted from the turn of events for the night and ready to sleep. Finally. Maybe we’ll do it again in a month or so….