INTO THE VORTEX
INTO THE VORTEX
Fifteen chicks, at least twelve bottles of wine and two large pizzas from Leos later, we had a great party outside on the sidewalk of my humble abode and business. Too many of us for the front porch and we didn’t want to go around to sit on the spacious back deck despite its beauty in the garden because after all, it is the infamous “4th” in Bristol, RI. Street front was where the energy and action was.
Fifteen or so superchicks, no children, no husbands, or pets to care for, and all of the other parts of our lives that are part of our lives left at home exchanged for a night out with each other before the climatic conclusion we call “the parade.” This was the calm between the storm of night after night of concerts, great food, walking the streets and engaging with just about everyone. Bristol’s 4th is like a family reunion except it is the entire town coming together and rejoicing, partying and shirking all responsibilities until after the 4th. There is nothing like living near all of it and since June 21st when the first concert began, we haven’t stopped.
Last night was the pause, albeit a partying one, but nonetheless it was nice to not walk to a concert and just stay put all evening. Laughing our female asses off as we talked about medical marijuana, walking in the parade, post menopausal dryness, vodka, the new pasta place that opened in Warren that of course my partner in crime, Karen and I are headed to pronto today because God forbid we don’t have enough food for after the parade and bitmojis. Another piece of cell phone technology I am in the dark about. For good reason too because as soon as the topic came up the entire tribe of chieftresses took it upon themselves to school me in the world of the bitmoji.
My phone was taken prisoner and passed around as each woman tried to get the bitmoji to match me or me to match it, not sure. It was like those old fun plastic peel off dolls that you could change their outfits on, what were those called again? I loved those and I quickly became that five year old girl as we all tried to make it match me. The only problem was that there were no Wonder Woman outfits which was kind of a bummer, so I made do with a crown, then a flower, then a Red sox cap and next thing you know, it was like forty minutes later. Sucked into the vortex. Heads down, each woman texting me their own personal bitmojis, but laughing our drunken asses off along the way. Sometimes technology is a good thing, oddly it connected us on a different plane and we were all the better for it simply because of the amount of laughter it caused among a group of women who laugh easily with each other anyway.
I woke up in a haze this morning afraid to look at the clock for fear it would read three am. It didn’t, it was 5:15, thank God. I remembered the evening with a warmth in my heart appreciating the amount of females who said Yes, I’ll be there and can I bring someone or something instead of No, I have too much to do to get ready for the 4th. We are always too busy and I worship the yesses from my female friends who decide on many alayne occasions to throw cares to the wind and have the fun I intend.
Then I remembered the Bitmoji. Let me just take a quick peek and play around with the hair, the outfit, the eyes, the lipstick, the blush color, the brow shape…all of a sudden it was 6:45 and a full hour and thirty minutes had mysteriously disappeared. Why doesn’t ninety minutes go by that fast at the gym? We would all be in way better shape, surely. I leaned into the vortex and laughed knowing that every single time I use one of these bizarre characters, the image of all of us women drinking and eating pizza on the sidewalk from 5:30–10pm two nights before the 4th will be the start of a yearly tradition for all the July 4ths years to come. God Bless America.
