by kevin dicus
Yeah, she wants me. I've got my finest threads on and for $100 I got Club Congress' complete package: Tickets to the prom, a room for later, free champagne and breakfast the next day. She'll put out, I guarantee it. Not many women can resist a man in a tux, and I must say I'm looking especially sharp.
When we get there the joint's already hopping. The band's not playing yet but the DJ's spinning some killer tunes. "Come On Eileen" by Dexy's Midnight Runners is playing. It's a great new song and this band is obviously going to be big for a long time, but I don't want to dance yet. Let's just let her anticipation build for a while. Let her imagine how this ass can move in these pants for just a little longer.
So I take her to the food because she's got to get her strength up for what's going to happen later upstairs. Man, what a spread. They've got Ritz crackers on silver trays spiraling around cans of Cheez Whiz, bowls of pretzels, peanuts, M&M's, Goldfish, everything a couple could need. So after applying a little cheese-on-cracker for my woman with my usual aplomb (no skimping on the Whiz), it's off to the bar to sort of get everything loose.
She doesn't get a drink, probably holding for the champagne like any classy chick should, and with mine in hand I lead her up to the dance floor where the band The Zsa-Zsa's are about to start. They're covering all the new tunes and it sounds like the real bands themselves are there. They play the new one from Dead or Alive called "You Spin Me," Queen's "We Are the Champions" (man, Freddy Mercury is, like, immortal) and "True," by Spandau Ballet, a slow song so I can get close to my woman. So I'm just shaking my shit, getting a groove on, and only stopping for more trips to the bar when all of a sudden the music stops. The prom is over. But the night is only beginning.
Like a lion leading a deer to his den, I take her upstairs. The room is small, but it doesn't matter, unless of course she's adventurous. It's my job to make her at ease, to lull her into a sense of security, and I'm in this lulling process when the phone rings. My buddies are at the front desk and they're coming up. How can I deny them? It's against the code to be inhospitable. I'll let them stay for a little while, kick them out and get down to business. But more people show up, the Zsa-Zsa's are partying upstairs, people I don't even know are squeezed tight in the room. Can I get a little time alone with my woman? I take a pull from the tequila bottle and decide to wait them out.
I stagger out of Hotel Congress squinting against the early Saturday morning sun. The party's just winding up, but I'm too tired to care. The date is passed out on the bed, somebody's passed out in the closet and I'm weak from a dinner of booze and processed food. I remember the free breakfast and stagger back in, collect the remains of my date and head down to the cafe. Coffee and pancakes refresh me enough to get me home and in bed where I can finally start the recovery process.
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by sarah johnson
I totally can't believe Kevin asked me to prom! I e-mailed my friends to see if they think he's, like, a Judd Nelson or a Michael Anthony Hall. I hope he isn't expecting me to put out or anything. I mean, he's sweet and all, so he shouldn't. But he did get me a corsage and rented a hotel room. Does that mean anything?
Oh my god, that girl is so wearing last year's dress. And who wears tennis shoes to prom? They are cute, though.
Ew, gross! Kevin is putting Cheez Whiz on pretzels. Now he's gonna have pretzel breath. Oh well, maybe they won't play any slow songs. Speaking of which, when is he going to ask me to dance? I've been working on my Molly Ringwald all day.
That is the greatest ball gown I have ever seen! She looks like a fairy princess. I hate her.
Yay! Kevin wants to dance and we've only been here a half an hour! Thank god it's not a slow song. Oooh, that guy's hot and he knows how to swing dance! Maybe Kevin won't notice if I flirt with him. No chance of that. Kevin's back at the bar again. I think this is his fifth trip. If he doesn't hurry, I'll never be prom queen. I better get him.
Cute, they have free bubbles (sponsored by KFMA). Bubbles pretty. What was I doing? Oh yeah, Kevin.
Oh no, they're announcing the king and queen! It's that cute little punk couple. I thought for sure the lesbian couple would take it. Still, it should have been me. I hate them.
Neato, peanuts! I'll just take this bowl for a little walk. They won't be missed. Wow, Kevin got a bottle of champagne! Perfect to drown my not-prom-queen sorrows.
OK, time warp, how did I get upstairs and who are all these people? Oh well, at least I'm not alone with Kevin. This is such a cute little room. Look at this old school radio and a rotary phone too!
What are those two doing in the closet? And why is Kevin wearing my prom dress? AHH!! Oh that's right, I changed. Adolescent sexuality is running rampant! Oh my god, who the hell is tickling me and are they cute? Uh oh, someone's poundin' on the door. Quiet, guys! Crap, it's Kini Wade, events coordinator, caterer and regulator. Is he here to regulate? No! He's here with free beer and Spyder Rhodes! Yay! He is a prom badass and can party with us. Everyone is totally partying like it's 1999. That's so far away. He and fellow coordinator Mia Proli are responsible for all of those arches and columns of balloons downstairs.
Like, oh my god, the sun is totally coming up and everyone is still stumbling from room to room partying. This is better than "Animal House." I should party like this for...
What happened, where am I and have I been violated? I better find Kevin. Maybe he's at breakfast in The Cup. He is, and there are blueberry pancakes waiting. What a perfect morning. If only somebody would get rid of that nagging light.
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