Saturday Shake Down

There are a few spur of the moment times in one's life that, thinking back on, seem so ridiculous and improbable in your daily routine, that you sort of wonder if it ever really happened at all.

Saturday, March 28th was one of those nights.

It all started the way it usually starts: we were bored and were trying to find something to do. Ryan had gotten an events email with this peculiar (yet enticing) blurb:

Shake(hands)(booty)(milk) Shake hands. Shake your booty. Enjoy a milkshake. I'll bet, if you're the least bit like me, you have always dreamed of these things ... These things all having to do with the magical word Shake, coming together into beautiful union, one place, one time: HiChristina. Well starlights, your wait is over. By visiting HiChristina tonight, you will behold the ultimate shake experience. .....Continuous film, improvisation and performances will be happening throughout this delightful Saturday evening. Come to learn, dance and make romance.

Who wouldn't be curious? Any place that gave free milkshakes was okay in my book. A $5 donation was cheaper than a $12 movie or a $10 bar bust, so onward we went to Grand St. Brooklyn!

When we found the small storefront with it's lonely projector screen and a glowing green torso manican, we walked on. Little creepy. We would wait it out until more victims came. And so we camped out in the cafe across the street, as Tory joined us.

By 9pm we got the courage to knock on their door as a cluster of people had gathered inside to watch a picture slideshow. A blonde girl in a leopard print frock and black leggings greeted us, welcoming us in and promptly asking for a donation. We gave her cash, tummies rumbling for milkshakes.

We were introduced to the small group: Christina, the blonde, had a dreamy look, and was sure she had seen me somewhere before.

Fritz was gangly and wearing loose leopard print pants which clearly showed his junk swinging as his body did the same.
Caroline was an older woman wearing a black beret and coat, of the beatnick type.
One girl had bright red short, scraggly hair, that only till later did we discover to be a wig.
Chris, our "handshake expert," seemed slightly out of place in a dapper blazer, velvet scarf, thick rimmed black Ray Bans & an [almost] pompadour.

We were giggly and felt a bit awkward, seeing as how we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, but the hell with it anyway. Also, Tory took this time explain how she knew a girl who asked her boyfriend to get slap her with a fish during intercourse, and how they went shopping for fish together. She and Chris had a lengthy discussion about what fish she would choose, as not all fish are the same size. Salmon perhaps?

Meanwhile, Christina and Fritz began their warm up shake. There was a whole lot of shaking going on (including the aforementioned Fritz junk). It was almost an interpretive dance. Then all of us had to go up in pairs to do a "spur-of-the-moment" shake. Tory tried to show Ryan how to move his hips...it didn't work. Chris and I went up, and I randomly twirled on one foot while shaking my finger ala 1920..... I would.

This was followed by a decicion to go from milkshakes to frappes with root beer and then to ice cream sandwiches, as there were no ingredients for the latter two. Sad, but ice cream was yummy and a good, normal distraction from the craziness.

Sticky-fingered, we formulated our own secret handshakes with our partners, incorporating snaps, wiggles, flips, handstands and [my own invention] sassy scarf swipes. The finale was Christina and Fritz's bare butt-on-butt action.

We sat down. Looked at eachother, half laughing and half wondering what the fuck was going on. All we could do was smile and engrain this moment in our brains for all time.

Two Australians and some other random people joined from outside to see what the commotion was about. Some pimply, stubbled creepster approached me asking, "Are you from Eastern Europe? You look it. You look like all the girls I previously went out with, and every one of them was named Monica." The conversation ended there.

After doing some booty shaking, we all felt it was time to skidattle from the colorful crowd. Chris and Georgia (the Australian) suggested we grab a drink, which we all quite needed in fact. We said our goodbyes with Fritz and Christina nearly following us out the door and begging us to come again. Under Chris' gigantor umbrella, we walked to a crowded bar and found a nice velvet plush seat to sink into.

I grabbed Ryan a $3 PBR, and then tried to ask the bartender what mixed and well drinks they had. After waiting about 5 minutes for him to sluggishly find the man who had ordered a Stella, he looked at me dumbfounded.

"That is the stupidest questions I've ever heard. How do I know?"

Um, I dont know, maybe because you're the freakin' BARTENDER. I didn't need a drink anyway.

Mood almost ruined, if not for the good company. We all had a grand 'ol time relishing in the events of the night, and vowed to meet again.

Next night was the First Run Film Fest at NYU. See my other blog for all the juicy details.

All in all, what did we learn? That "foozle" is another for "fart."