Ladylikeish

Last night, after a strenuous yoga class, I went to the Madhatter, our usual watering hole (with an emphasis on the hole), for a few cocktails with my best girl. I've grown to like the Hatter over the years, despite the risk of infection from the ladies room and hideous music. Like a really bad episode of Cheers, there is something kinda comforting and easy about hanging out in a dirty pub, stumbling distance from my house, where everybody really does know my name. And sometimes i'm almost glad i came.

However, last night i experienced one of the most revolting things that can happy to a girl in the city...

I ran into a rat upon stepping off the curb in the back alley. The dirty little (and by little, i mean huge) beast ran right into my platform shoes, tripped around under my feet for a while, and then ran off.

I realize that hanging out in the alley behind a bunch of dive bars may put me at risk for certain horrible experiences like crackheads, sewage leakage, drunken urinators, and rats. The fact that i know how disgusting it is makes me even more irritated with myself for doing it.

After my male companion recovered from a fit of uninhibited laughter at my misfortune, i informed him that i was a lady and therefore should not be subjected to the likes of back alley rat collisions. But, even as i said it to him, i began to question just how ladylike i really am. I'd like to think that i'm infinitely civilized, complete with embroidered hankies and stemware and good posture. However, i clearly don't behave very well and have most of my fun in a drunken, rowdy stupor. In fact, some of my most cherished moments in life have resulted in my awakening at 6am fully-clothed on the Love Sac with Olive looking at me shamefully.

The only redeeming quality of the night was that after a good long scream and a short trip onto the back of my male companion, i was able to laugh about my intimate moment with one of DC's finest. I was a bit surprised myself! Even though i usually pout about why i always end up in rodent-infested bars instead of immaculate, posh lounges, i was able to see humor in this situation. Perhaps that is the most ladylike behavior after all...perhaps maintaining fabulocity against all odds and in every environment is the epitome of a lady.

I won't be so bold to call myself a lady quite yet. If i do, i'm afraid i'll have to also call myself old. But, in the meantime, i'm relieved to discover that even if i find myself in a thriving dumpster community of all things sick and wrong, i can still hold it together (pretty much).

P.S. If i suddenly die from Black Plague, please send the lovely folks at the Hatter my regards.