Party Train International In Atlanta

I woke Saturday morning to giggling voices snuggling my neck. There were little people in bed with me. My niece and nephew were delighted to find their auntie Sheff asleep in a bedroll on the floor, so they crawled in with me. Their father, a big bear of a man, appeared on the scene before I could force my eyes open. I heard him say, You guys leave her alone. He whisked them away before I could respond. It was a nice way to wake up especially after an evening of debauchery. Yes, it was PTI weekend. Most of the walking wounded were still asleep. Bodies were scattered about our hostess rather large home. After coffee, a number of members were assessing the evenings losses. MIAs included a cell phone and an I POD, along with the dignities of a few. Hey, it happens. I deserve some kind of award for being the least hung-over and still having a damn fine time.
The evening started with food, drinks and socializing with new members. Around 8pm, we loaded on to a party bus and headed to the Ritz Carlton. I think the hotel was a little overwhelmed by 19 women showing up at one time and causing a stir. I met a nice Swedish engineer and enjoyed a good bottle of merlot that the bartender neglected to add to any bill. Two thumbs way up! Next, we went to my least favorite place on earth. Im going to try to be brief because it doesnt deserve that much of my attention. The Compound nightclub is the most revolting, disgusting, trashy place full of posing fools. The weapons check of my purse was welcomed because if I had had a gun in my possession while in that club I would have used it on myself to end my misery. Thanks for saving my life club security. We didnt leave soon enough.
A local member suggested that we go to the Clermont Lounge, so away we went. You dont know anything about this place so let me try to explain. If the Ritz is the top (in some minds) then the Clermont is the bottom (in some minds). It is a tiny, dingy club at the base of a seedy hotel where one of the strippers has worked for over thirty plus years. Yeah, its your grandma naked smacking her ass for you. And I loved it! I had a great time, the most fun of the entire night. My friends all got tables in the corner but not me. I sat at the bar. They served Guinness, heaven, Im in heaven. I liked that the strippers were real women, a little overweight, some older, some younger, sans the implants, very old school. The men at the bar were lots of fun and very respectful of me and the ladies dancing. Some of them gave me money to tip the strippers. I had my own money guys, but thanks. I met a handsome man (he sort had that Sam Rockwell thing going on) and we talked about music and film until the bar closed. Im going to call this guy Sam. Sam, I liked the way you took my face in both your hands to kiss me goodnight. I liked the way you went to the door to leave but returned before my friends could collect me and kissed me like that again. The big romantic gestures work for me. I love them. I bet you thought that I was too tipsy to remember details like that, think again Sam. It was a pleasure spending time with you.
The PTI weekend was a success. No major causalities. I wish that I could see the girls more often.