Bulls, Boys and Beer

It is Friday and we will eat.  The girls and I get a late start at Cracker Barrel.  It is exactly like the one I had been to in Upstate New York.  It has average food with interesting, country atmosphere.  On our way out we browse the merchandise.  I immediately hone in on some comically large Smarties, thus starting an embarrassing Smarties addiction.  Kori drives us around town and we outright tell her she wouldn’t be allowed to road trip with us.  She knows she’s an intense driver and understands we say this with love.  We go on Base at Fort Campbell and take a look in the commissary.  I notice lots of women with kids.  I notice lots of pregnant women.  I notice couples.  I notice unhappiness and stress.  Obviously there are exceptions to these mopey tired families but this lifestyle does not appeal me.  I suppose I am not strong enough to have a husband who goes to war.  I am not strong enough to have children with a man who may be gone for a year or more.  I would prefer a man who is there during my pregnancy and who rubs and experiences my belly growing.  I appreciate what our soldiers do for our country but I don’t want soldier penis inside me for fear of conception. 

…Wow, I never thought I would learn so much about myself at a grocery store... 

It is Friday and we will party.  We are prepared for the night with our bellies full of Mexican food and an extra large bottle of vodka in the freezer.  The music is bumping while we get ready for the night.  I straighten my hair within a half hour and I’m thoroughly impressed.  Kori’s friend Amber is kind enough to be our designated driver.  Because it is legal here, we bring drinks in the car and party all the way to Electric Cowboy.  I wear boots that are too small for me but I got them at a thrift store and I love them.  Electric Cowboy is essentially an empty warehouse.  The music is loud and the drinks are cheap.  “Heyyy Pocahontas!” a guy yells at me.  Okay, I can die happy now.  We pass the mechanical bull and go straight to the dance floor.  We slow dance, line dance and hump dance a little.  An army boy comes up to Danielle and I and asks us if we are lesbians.  He tries to convince us he is gay and ultimately proves it.  His friend thinks something is funny and proceeds to spit beer all over us.  I hug the gay soldier and hope he will ask me to be his best friend.  This doesn’t happen and we continue on with our seemingly lesbian ways.  I guess it’s unusual for girls to slow dance with each other here.  Pff, I love to dance and I’m not waiting for a creeper to come up to me, grab my vagina and expect me to dance with him.  Dancing with my girls is a lot less “rapey.”  Amber picks us up and the night nears an end.

It is Friday and we are drunk.  Stumbling in the house, Kori turns the air conditioner on full blast.  We awake the following morning to an unlocked front door and a 60-degree house.  After battling our hypothermia and mild hangovers, we pack for Nashville.  I wonder what the city has in store for us…