Discussion in 'Blogs' started by jjl, Aug 6, 2016.
Truth is like fire; to tell the truth means to glow and burn.
― Gustav Klimt
The first night I worked with the new dance floor it took me three tries to cross it with a Jack, neat.
See this scar? I got that the second time I tried to get across with the drink.
The cheap shot glass broke when some drunken Jr Exec knocked my tray with her white person dance.
Shithead made me go get a third drink and I hugged the edge of that dance floor like I was avoiding a puddle of pooh.
The second I handed the drink off to my guest, she grabbed my arm while she knocked the shot back. She held up the glass and nodded. My face was bleeding and I was crying.
The lady's face went soft and said, it's ok. But it wasn't because she still wanted another drink.
I don't work dance nights anymore.
*(I am leaving this up because of Ashy's star. Sorry if the passage makes no sense to the rest of you.)
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