Some Party

My husband called home last week and said he'd been invited to a party at the Captain Cook Hotel by another attorney who does a lot of work for them, was I up for a free meal at a fancy restaurant followed by dancing and entertainment? Ummm . . . let me think . . . YES!

It was a black tie affair, though in Anchorage that merely means no jeans (and even that rule can be fudged if your Carharts are in the wash) but it was about as fancy a deal as you're going to get around this little town. Six hundred people with the Association of General Contractors' (AGC) annual conference, tickets sold out in four hours. In Alaska oil--and by association construction--rules the world meaning the guest list was a Who's Who of the state. Are you getting the picture that this was no shabby event? At any rate, the dinner was tasty and we were having a great time.

So the emcee got up to start the entertainment portion of the evening and it was the typical awards mixed with a few goofy skits about various projects and businesses but here's where my story takes a turn for the Twilight Zone:

The emcee announced, "And now ladies and gentlemen I have to set up for the next part of the evening but while I'm gone five of my ex-girlfriends are going to entertain you."

I'm thinking, "Great, I really don't need to see the foreman in drag." How wrong I was.

The lights were already dim but the revolving colored floodlights began dancing over the room, throwing pink and blue and yellow patterns around the walls when ontothe stage strutted five exotic dancers. Yes, you read that right.

The music started thumping out a pulsating beat and I watched men around me become mesmerized by the gyrating motions of the five nubile bodies as they demonstrated their evident flexibility. My husband about choked on his halibut and I could hear forks dropping around the room as the girls continued their little routine--the only thing missing was the poles. There were large boxes on either end of the stage and some of the dancers jumped up on each box and continued her moves for those whose myopia may have made them unable to see what was happening on the stage.

Reading my detailed description might give you the impression that I too was glued to the scene but actually it was really embarrassing. My husband and I began a deep and earnest look-into-my-eyes conversation designed to appear as if we were so engrossed in each other's words we couldn't bear to look away--no matter how enthralling the entertainment might be. But there's only so much one can do and we had about run out of ways to look casual when it mercifully stopped.

Whew! Talk about uncomfortable. But wouldn't you know that ding-a-ling brought "his ex-girlfriends" back out two more times? I mean there's only so many times you can walk out to call the sitter, use the bathroom, check the hair, etc.

Perhaps the only person squirming more than we were was the poor woman who'd invited us. She knows my husband is Captain Family Man--he's so squeaky clean he makes Boy Scouts look bad--so where does she bring her client and his wife? The Christmas Strip Fest. Yahoo! She kept apologizing about how it hadn't been like that last year, she was surprised herself, etc.

We ended up leaving early anyway but I couldn't help chuckling about how surely someone's head would roll over the faux pas. Forget the traditional Santa showing up and passing out candy, who on the committee thought that what the party really needed were some of them good ol-fashioned girlies? Nothing says Christmas like strategically placed jingle bells.

Although the construction industry is typically male-dominant, everyone I could see had a guest with them which made for equal numbers among the sexes so besides the men who might be offended I imagined their wives wouldn't be happy about being taken to a strip club--especially after what they must have paid for their tickets. Sure enough, the next day we got a letter from the presidents--past and present--of AGC profusely apologizing for the choice of entertainment and vowing they'd sooner buy a Prius and move to Portland than ever subject us to such again. Made me smile.

Oh and I forgot to mention that before the dancing started they held a drawing for the fancy floral centerpiece and toy front-end loader on each table and I won! I never win anything--so the moral of my story is that even if you're in a den of sin and iniquity don't leave too early because you may go home with some cool stuff to show for it. Merry Christmas!

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