The music wasn’t too loud and the band played only instrumental music.
Music that I found rather pleasant as it drifted its way above the senseless conversation and obnoxious laughter of one particular group of young drunk ladies .
The potted plastic plants stood stone silent next to the cheap pressed wood tables filled with used paper plates ,plastic forks, wadded up napkins and half full clear plastic cups.
The flower arrangements at each table had all began to droop as the air became more stale with the sweat and the breath of the drunken people whose beauty they were all meant to admire.
I heard about how stiff the drinks were and how long the ladies room line was.
I overheard conversations about money and addicted daughters, ******* bosses and good deals on tires.
I heard them admire the fact there was no traffic on the way here and how the food was ok.
I purposely listened for any comment made about the dying young flowers whose time was cut short in order to be at their table.
I listened the whole night .
I heard no such thing.
A pair of huge ******* brushed against my bad shoulder as a large woman with dyed black hair and too much jewelry on began to speak into my ear.
She spilled a splash of her drink on my only good pair of shoes.
She knew what she did but never bothered to apologize.
The cheap faux wooden dance floor laid there like a minefield devoid of the swaying bodies and sweaty torsos.
Yet for some reason the music still played on.
I noticed she had a strange need to be as close to you as possible as she spoke.
Her conversation was about as cheap as my shoes and the empty linoleum dance floor.
The party balloons began to lose their ability to float above the senseless conversation,
cheap cologne ,dying young flowers, plastic plants and plastic *******.
I smiled as they began to slowly fall to the floor.
For the third time that night I cursed my decision to come here and mill about with the rest of the cattle.
I went to the bar and got another drink.
Overweight women with undersized clothing stood in line to the single stalled ladies room like needy mothers in a well fare line.
This pair of ******* kept themselves snug against my bad shoulder as the lip stick painted mouth with the tobacco stained teeth kept on about what she did and where she went, who she knew and where she wanted to be and how badly she wanted to smoke.
I downed my drink, the drinks were strong, the drinks were good.
I stopped her in mid sentence and said.
“The trees they all die in silence in the forest’.
I made my way towards the exit passed the dying flowers and the sweaty men.
I hit the double doors with all I had and stepped out into the welcoming night.
I took in the scents of the salt water and the burning fuel, the taco truck across the street and the ***** still on my lips.
Before I left I went back in and tipped the Mexican bartender a 20 dollar bill.
Him and his stiff drinks were obviously the life of the party and the only real reason I was glad I came.