Friday and Saturday evenings. Two events. Glamor and elegance. I bartended both nights and the adrenaline was pumping afterward so that I couldn't sleep until 5 am either night.
Friday was a runway fashion show that they sold 700 or so tickets to. We had two bars on opposite sides of Windhover Hall and there was a frenzy without lull as we mixed and poured non-stop all night long. It was a beautiful crowd with gorgeous women en force. It was a complete blast with all movement energized by the DJ and lights.
Saturday night was an extravagant wedding for 225. The linens alone must have cost a fortune. The flowers were worth more than everything I own combined. The band was a 10-piece with strings and horns, plus four lead singers. Dinner service was white glove and synchronized. Food was catered by an outside company that does most of the events that the museum doesn't do in-house. Our museum staff, myself and four others, provided beverage service from two bars. Brandy old-fashioneds with olives seemed to be the family drink and we served loads of other standards, but I made plenty of cosmo and lemon-drop martinis, as well as an awesome Godiva white chocolate martini. Afterward I had my own Rusty Nail and then hit an Irish pub with two of my coworkers for a beer and a shot of Jameson's as a nightcap. That still didn't mellow me and when I finally got home I was awake for hours.
Our guilt, our blame,
I've been far too sympathetic.
Our blood, our fault.
I've been far too sympathetic.
I am not innocent.
You are not innocent.
Noone is innocent.
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