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11-17-01 - 1:29 a.m. What happens when you pile seven hyperactive teenage girls into a sport utility vehicle and drive well past the speed limit into the worst imaginable parts of the city in search of ice cream? Read to find out. Yesterday was Julia's birthday, but with the release of Harry Potter, my alma mater's football team entering (and winning) the first round of play-offs, and the school's drama department performing their suprisingly good rendition of A Hatful of Rain, there just wasn't time to schedule any kind of birthday celebration. Chris called me this morning to ask if I would be willing to shell out $20 for the "Julia GAP Card Fund." I agreed, noting that if I was to be paying for a portion of the gift, I should be invited to the party. Seeing the logic in my ultimatum, Chris told me that a tentative guest list had been put together, and these tentative people would be dining at Chuck E. Cheese's in honor of Julia's 18th birthday at 7:00 tonight. Tentatively. I told Chris it would be better if we kidnapped her and offered to bring a strip of cloth and a pair of handcuffs to add to the suspense. I ended up picking up Chris, Kellie, Jessi, and Julia from their respective houses, handcuffing Julia's wrists (in front of her) and blindfolding her. Then, at Chuck E. Cheese's, the five of us met up with Rachel, Haley, Nina, Brittany, Alyssa, all their boyfriends, and...Rob and Scarlett. I sat as far from them as I could, but caught myself glaring at them more than once. Our service turned out to be pathetic. She was completely out of order in the charisma department, though she did attempt a few futile and depressingly un-funny jokes. We told her it was Julia's birthday and expected a song. Didn't get one. We ended up singing one ourselves...er, sorta. The entire trip up there consisted of everyone else in the car asking about where and how I had been since my graduation. (If you'll recall, these were my friends until I skipped from eleventh to twelfth grade, switched schools, and graduated early.) Chris, jokingly, asked if I had yet become a stripper. I told her I was working on it and to give me some time. I took a chance tonight and wore my Sexy Fedora out in public over a pair of black pants, strappy heels, and a low-cut top. I'm sure I must have looked like a stripper. As soon as we all had finished eating, it was decided that since all of us were now 18, a trip to a strip club was in order. This was decided by the boyfriends in attendance. So we piled into our many vehicles and zoomed off in search of flesh, keeping in contact via cell phone. While the bouncer at the door herded the group in, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Rob, who wanted to talk to me for "just a sec." I hesitated, but seeing that Scarlett was nowhere in sight and that it would give me a chance to smoke a quick cigarette, I agreed. "So, how are you?" "Cold." "It's foggy tonight." "Yeah." "Are you dating that guy?" "Leif?" "Yeah." "Yes." "Does he treat you okay?" "Better than some." (Cue me looking away to breathe out smoke.) "Yeah, Scarlett's great, too. She has this adorable little laugh and she's just the best dancer�" "What do you want?" "I want to be friends again." "No. Not yet." "Why not?" "I still don't want to see you for a while. That wasn't a threat. It was the truth. I don't want to see you." "Just because we're not dating?" "Because I don't want to see you. That's all there is to it." "Fine." "I always loved your understanding. So are you going to pretend to be uninterested in the naked women in there on behalf of Scarlett?" "Probably." "Sounds like fun." "Are you going to ask to perform?" "Probably not." "That's a shame." "Why?" "You have a really nice body." "But not as nice as Scarlett's." "Right." "Good." After this I stamped out the rest of my cigarette, waved the smoke from my face, disposed of the butt, popped in a stick of Dentyne Ice, and made my way inside before him. He held the door for me. His momma raised him right. Inside it was your average strip club, complete with strippers, one of whom danced to "American Woman," which is on my list of top 10 strippable songs! The girls all agreed it was fairly boring, so I knew I had to do something. Why? Because I'm desperate for attention, good or bad, and I'll do anything to get it. I asked one of the men working if he'd let me do a quick routine, but keep my clothes on. He said it would be okay as long as I didn't keep tips or expect money. I said that was fine, then browsed through their selection of music. And do you know what they had in their collection? "Criminal" by Fiona Apple, also on my list of top ten songs. I took a few minutes in the bathroom to play with my hair and adjust my clothing, then disappeared behind the platform curtains. When my music started, I asked myself how crazy I was, bit the bullet, and stepped onstage. I lip-synched to Fiona, making my way slowly down the catwalk and leaning over to blow a kiss to Julia. So I stripped, a little bit. I lifted up my shirt and showed my bra, but that was really it. I did poledance, however, which is just fun, no matter how "degrading." See why I'm the anti-feminist? I cannot believe I actually did that. I'm so embarrassed, aside from the fact that it's probably the most fun I've ever had. When I was done, we went outside, piled back into the cars, and took to the California freeway system. Brittany said she knew of a place in Santee that had amazing ice cream and it was decided that this place should become our next destination. I, of course, was the only one who knew where "this place" was, so everyone had to follow me like a caravan. A quick geography note: Santee is often called "Klantee" because it's close to 99% caucasian. Not just normal white people. Really racist people. And I'm half black. I've driven through Klantee and seen small groups of KKK members in full attire marching off into the woods. They have to meet far away from normal people, you know. It's the way of the Coward. Santee is white trash. Trailer parks and overpopulated cafeterias included. It's one of the the worst places in San Diego and I hate it. But the birthday girl wanted ice cream, so I had to go. On the way, Chris said, "Y'know, Laura, maybe we shouldn't go here. You could be in danger." "Just me?" "Well, you're the only KKK target." "Not really. Kellie's half Japanese, Brit's a Jew, and Rob's gay. I think we'll be fine." Once there, I took to the surface streets and realized that my caravan had mysteriously disappeared. I'd given them directions over the phone, though, and figured we'd meet up soon enough. As I was driving, two young men in a pickup truck pulled along side me and stayed parallel with my car for a while. This pisses me off. I hate being parallel with someone. I sped up. So did they. I slowed down. So did they. The guy on the passenger side seemed to be asking me to race, so I glared and accepted. We came to a stoplight, where we both revved our engines and peeled out the second the light turned green. I wasn't paying much attention to the speedometer, as it was extremely foggy and I was thus more concerned with staying on the road. I saw a red light in the distance and slowed down, grinding my gears to a halt. The two guys were still next to me and motioned for me to roll down my window. I did. "What's your name?" the nearest guy asked. I told him. "That your car?" "Yeah." "Sweet." He peeled out again, but I'd had enough. I changed lanes and made a U-turn, pulling over to make sure everyone was still okay. Julia told me to never do that again. I laughed and promised her I wouldn't. "Hey, guys, look to the right," Jessi said suddenly. We all did what she said. I had pulled over in front of a school. The sign in front of it summed up our reactions: Santana High School. Our solemn sentiments were cut short as Jessi made another startling revelation: about 20 feet behind where we sat stood a man with a gun, and he was looking in our direction. Now, I don't believe for a second that he was looking at us. I believe he was just a typical Klantee resident wandering the streets past his bedtime. Eventually we did find the ice cream parlor and the rest of our caravan, and it turned out to be exactly as we'd hoped. After ice cream, it was time for gift-giving. We ended up at Laurie's mansion, sprawled out and waiting with bated breath as Julia opened her GAP envelope. She was thrilled. Finally it was time to go home. I dropped off everyone, taking time to walk the birthday girl to her door, where I grabbed her and kissed her full on the lips. She was stunned. I said, "Surely you didn't think you weren't going to get a kiss on your birthday, even if it is a day late." "A guy would've been better." "No shit." "Thanks. This was fun." "No problem." "Good night!" "Night, and happy birthday, Julia!" If you feel as though your IQ has just dropped 20+ points, you're not alone.
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