Being hip requires a lot more talent and finesse than some might know. Fortunately, So Hip has got this mastered. In addition to being a supreme human being, in general, she is also a very talented art show and put her wares on display for a city gallery stroll.
Sleepless and I decided to attend the stroll and, true to form, arrive five or so minutes after the gallery had closed. Not to fret, I knew the location of the after party so we quickly made our way there. It should be noted, that on our way to the gallery we saw a man in blue jeans, a red shirt, white shoes and a white belt. I commented, probably not too quietly, that I’ve never been a fan of the white belt and he should probably rethink his outfit. The man was going the opposite direction when we first saw him. Moments later, he passed us with his red shirt untucked and white belt out of sight; most likely hidden.
Although he appeared to be heading the same direction, we did not see him at the after party. We did, however, have the chance to spend a good amount of time with So Hip. She was very happy and, as she often does when happiness overcomes her, started going around the room and giving kudos to guests.
“I’m worried she won’t know my name,” Sleepless told me.
“No need to worry. We’ll make you a name tag,” I replied and quickly made her a name tag with masking tape and a permanent marker.
So Hip did turn her attention to Sleepless, but by the time she did her focus had changed. She reached into the pocket of her beautiful, black silk wrap and pulled out a relatively large bottle.
“Here, this is what you’re going to get,” she told Sleepless as she sprayed her face.
“Is there something wrong with my face? What just happened?” Sleepless asked me, stunned.
“So Hip just happened. There’s nothing wrong with your face. I’m sure that’s rose water. She’s taking care of you,” I advised.
It was rose water and, for whatever reason, Sleepless was the only guest privy to that treatment.
A few minutes later we decided to leave. As we made our way across the street we saw none other than white belt man, walking in the same direction as us.
“I have concerns,” I told her.
She did too and, in addition, had spotted a karaoke bar with private rooms, so we quickly darted inside to learn more about it and, more importantly, not walk with white belt.
A few minutes and no happy ending later, we were back on the streets. Sleepless with her refreshed face and me with a phone number for the karaoke bar.