One year ago last night Sleepless, Ice Cream Man and I went to a Halloween party that promised to feature cabaret, voodoo carnivale, creature encounters, and observation-only experiences. We definitely observed a lot and, as the the night came to an end, we sadly discovered that one major promise had been broken – our friends had all departed without us and we were stuck on the West side in the middle of industry with no ride home.
This year, to avoid being stranded, we opted to attend a rock opera dance circus “for curious adults” downtown – within walking distance of their house. Being that we live in a state where being an ‘adult’ does not legally mean one is independent or responsible, the selling of alcoholic beverages is not allowed in public venues where nudity will be seen. As a result, we had a drink or two pre-show and Ice Cream Man filled a breastmilk bag full of whiskey for us to enjoy, as ‘adults,’ during the show.
Within minutes of arriving and chatting with other patrons we realized that many of them had opted for illegal substances – something we think we may have experienced (not by choice) last year . While they experienced cotton mouth we stuck to our breastmilk bag and the show began. “Why is it that every year we end up at something like this?” Ice Cream Man asked. “Halloween,” I replied.
The show definitely gave us what was promised. As the nudity (boobs) presented I leaned over to Ice Cream Man and whispered, “Tuesday.” Being that he is in the middle of a medical experiment of sorts and cannot partake in sexual activity until, you guessed it, Tuesday, he knew exactly what I meant. For him, and for those who make and enforce our state liquor laws, nudity is a no! no!