Yep - two gigs this weekend.
They were pretty damned interesting too.
The first one was on Saturday night. I knew things were going to be weird because I didn't get my regular coma-like Diva Nap in there.
It was for a historical society, and they're one of our regular customers. Their soirees are usually pretty classy...folks in cocktail attire/tuxes, and full of the pomp and circumstance one sees when a group gets together and basically says "We Rock". It's one of the better gigs we play in terms of fundage as well.
However, thanks to the power of one woman, it turned into one of the weirdest nights imaginable.
This lady (whose name I never did get) made her entrance when I was singing with the small group. And BOY, did she make an entrance. She was probably in her mid/late '50s, but let me describe her from the head on down.
- Hairstyle - very "Winehouse" except bleached blonde. Her hair was teased so much, it needed therapy.
- Face - very hard looking (but pretty at one time). The makeup was so heavy that at first I thought this person was a drag queen and they came to the wrong party.
- Body - definitely middle aged with pretty good legs. Large chest - figured if a strong wind hit her from behind and knocked her down, she'd bounce right back up.
- Outfit - Silver spangled minidress, white hose (thank God she wore them), and silver stiletto heeled shoes.
She had that deliberate walk that some drunks have. You know the one...the very slow walk that supposedly means that person is not drunk but really, they are? That heel-toe, slow thing? At first, I thought it was her shoes, but then I figured out the larger part was the booze walking. I'm smart like that, I guess.
Her entrance alone was surprising enough...it made me accidentally drop a word while singing "Desafinado", and the drummer skipped a beat but recovered. But I figured if she was a quiet drunk, it'd be OK, right?
The band had a break while the guests ate their meals and the speeches took place. During that time, several band members asked me why I didn't dress like that. My answer was, "Because I don't want to be ashamed of the fact that I have ovaries." We didn't see our lady again so we figured it was a fluke, she came to the wrong party, etc. But I was wrong.
We started playing, and gradually, she came out on the floor and started dancing. She was at that stage of drunk where she didn't need or particularly want a partner. She basically stood in one place and did hoochie moves all over the place. She got close to the band area and shook her ass in front of the sax players, who I think had one massive heart attack between them all (they are older, you know...).
She came up to my area, figured out I was female, and just shook my hand instead.
She also rubbed up against the band manager like a cat in heat, and he was less than pleased. MUCH less than pleased, I believe.
She left the dance floor (for reasons unknown, and better off so), but we had the great misfortune of her coming back. The moves were the same, but unsteadier. Again, we got the ass-shaking and other stuff, and she kept getting closer and closer, unsteadier and unsteadier. I was afraid she was going to fall on us. Not that the guys would mind, but she might have barfed on 'em if shaken too heavily.
Finally, she left for good. I was ready to go to security to get her off the floor just because I could see her getting tangled up in the speaker cords and having a big speaker fall on her and crush her. Granted, it might have bounced off if the speaker landed on her chest, but probably not. I didn't think we should have to deal with that liability so I was the watchdog. Apparently, this dog scared her off the porch.
So that was the big excitement for Saturday. Tomorrow, I'll write about Sunday, which won't be so pretty.