Our fun on Saturday didn't end with the golf - we had committed ourselves to going to the Acapulco for an evening of costumed Halloween fun. We don't dress up. Carm certainly doesn't dress up. I decided to buck the trend and go as *something* , I just wasn't sure what.
Digging around in my closets and drawers I stumbled upon my motorcycle jacket - yeah! That's the ticket. I'll go as a 'motorcycle chick'. I unearthed a few more bits and pieces to make up the outfit. I dragged out makeup that I rarely use and applied liberally. Bright red lipstick, thick dark mascara on my almost invisible eyebrows, thick black eyeliner around my eyes, mascara, and the crowning glory: blue eyeshadow from lash to brow. Yikes. I almost forgot the stark black shoulder length wig. With a pink skirt so brief that I needed shorts, black stockings, low cut black tank-top, tiny denim vest, all crowned with a stereotypical black leather motorcycle jacket, I could have stood at a corner somewhere and maybe made a few bucks.
I won fourth place! Mainly due, I think, because of cleavage, and maybe a bit because of my clowning around - there is something freeing about being invisible behind a facade (more about that tomorrow). And for the prize, a 4 pack of Boes beer, a craft beer brewed in our area.
Unfortunately the photos of me were taken after we got home and much of the makeup had worn off.
As is often the case when we visit the Acapulco, it was an interesting night full of fodder for an aspiring writer. I savour each moment of weirdness and plan what I might write. Of course by the next day I forget. I'm lobbying Carm for a smart phone cause then I could take notes and maybe a photo or two to help me remember. I think writing has increased my 'powers' of observation, and there is something slightly mindful about it.
Soon after we arrived a school bus pulled into the parking lot and 32 deaf people poured from its guts. There was confusion as they were shuffled into the room setup for groups, and even more when that overflowed and they filled up much of the rest of the restaurant. The bus driver was the only person who could hear, and I'm not sure that he could communicate with the others. But everyone settled in and by pointing and gesture were able to order from the menu.
Like people with hearing, it seemed that some were 'louder' talkers than others. Watching them converse, some were more animated with bigger gestures. Imagine for a moment what it must be like to be trapped in a world of silence and not able to communicate with the world around you. It isn't even like being in a foreign country - you'd quickly learn some key words to communicate. It must be frustrating.
That was just the beginning of the night, but this is already long so I'll save my other stories (which involve entertainers) for tomorrow.
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