the lights

You know that moment when you're dancing your heart out to some Ludacris song (or Come on Eileen if it's 80's night) and the lights turn on at the bar? That has got to be the most embarrassing moment of the entire bar experience. Sure nasty guys are grinding on you all night, drinks get spilled on your feet, your makeup runs, and you inevitably fall down at some point, but it's all under the cover of darkness! The moment that the lights turn on, everyone sees each other NOT under the glow of black light and pabst neon signs. It's horrible, you finally have to look that creeper in the face thats been grinding on you all night, you see your horribly dirty feet, the pool of mascara and eyeliner under your eye and the rips in the knee of your jeans from the falling incident. Not to mention that you have a little tinge of shame for closing down the bar, making it to, and past, last call and still dancing like a moron. You have to stumble out the door trying not to look anyone in the face, especially the poor sober idiots who work where ever you chose to mortify yourself tonight, that can't be fun. Then two hours later, after a pita, cheesy fries, or dumplings (whichever is your favorite downtown drunken haunt) you think to yourself, "a lot of flash bulbs were going off in my face, but none of my friends had cameras. How do I find that one kid's facebook and try delete these pictures .... or at least see if they tagged me 'icky girl', 'sleezy girl', or 'some random'". Ahh going out, it's just as glamorous as I always hoped.