Funky Nassau

I don't need an excuse to boogie. Hell, I'm grown. Finally. Used to be (when I was Really of club-going age, when PAR-tay was what I lived for), that I would go to a spot with my friends and hug the wall, standing around waiting for someone to find it in their hearts to ask me to dance. Then if they did, we would play it all cool, barely moving, not daring to sweat, knowing that if my folks could see me, they would be wondering why in the hell they paid all that money for years of dancing lessons that I was obviously not going to use. But last week in the Nassau, I don't know what hit me. Me, Shaniqua and ReRe and nem discovered that our ship was staying in port overnight. Now some folks headed skrait (not a type-o) to the casino, but we works hard for our money and we wanted to keep it. So I put on my suede halter top, low rise jeans and bad ass shoes (gotta have those), and we headed to take over Senor Frog's, right on the dock.
I don't know what we were expecting, maybe something exotic or island like. As we passed the knock off hand bag stand the only thing that had me convinced that we were not in Brooklyn anymore was the crystal clear, bath-looking water and the dread headed white boys. (Hey, its ALL good). Steve from The Fashion 40 Lounge in New York picked up the tab (thank you, Steve).
Now the music was thumpin' while the overdrinkers of all ilks were falling flat on their booties. But the rest of us, we was dancin', ya'll. I sweat right through that pretty little top and still don't know where I'm gonna get it cleaned. We danced with everyone that asked and a few that didn't while others of us (not me) had jello shots just so the man with the whistle could dance on their laps. Oh, and let me tell you, I bet there wasn't any alcohol in them shots either, but that man's dance was well worth the show.
Politeness flew out the window and Nassau went funky, for sure, because even the American non-Latino men were movin' their hips. People I saw on the ship the night before who'd had no idea what Latin motion was were getting their groove on and speaking in tongues. (I translated from some language I don't even speak to English for one would be couple and they didn't even tip me.) Stone cold thugs forgot to lean back and sweat was flying every which way. We danced until they played the goodbye song and my Laura Mercier slid off my face. The lights came on, and we remembered we were old. The not so proud hobbled back to the ship as the first signs of daylight peeked over the horizon. The rest of us waited until we got to our rooms to limp.

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