Night of the Iguana

We spent our first night together, sitting in a tight circle in the crowded living area of our hotel suite catching up on life, throwing down our cards and having hot flashes, one after the other, after the other. You can not cram eight menopausal women into a space like that and expect good things to happen.

Reminds me of an opening to a sick joke, eight menopausal women walk into a bar..... Consider this a creative writing challenge and offer me your conclusions in the comment section.

We generated some heat all up in there, in our air conditioned room.  Because good Lord, it was hot outside.  I had forgotten how scorching mid July can be in Oklahoma.  I can't put it any better than Kim when she said in her soft voice, "ya'll, it's a hundred and fuck out there".

Sex, parenting, ex-husbands, death, aging, grandchildren, current husbands, peace, rage, hope - we began to talk and it all came pouring out like a bag of Gardettos when you pull and pull and pull and it explodes in a shower of snack mix (sorry Lori). We came with our ugly, we brought our confused, we exposed our dumb-ass mistakes and shared our proudest moments. And there was love to be found in the midst of that steamy room. The chaotic, disorganized snack mix scattered all about the floor was picked up, piece by delicious piece.

The next day, we had breakfast and then promptly planted ourselves at the pool. We encountered a red neck chick who discovered it is not prudent to mess with the aforementioned eight menopausal women by attempting to steal one of their noticeably marked lounge chairs. Bert gave Ernie a swimming lesson, even though I didn't have my rubber ducky, and we observed a married man flirting and posing with a group of twenty-something girls who were there having a girls trip of their own.  I couldn't resist telling his friend to remind him in a few years when he is tempted to post that photo on Match.Com, it is not a good idea, no matter how hot he thinks he looks.

Sorry to interrupt this post but here are our shoes from the night before. Which one of these just doesn't belong?

We began to discuss dinner plans and as always, these lovely women defer to me. They know how much I crave Oklahoma food.  They want to see me satisfied, nay indulged.  I told them I wanted to eat at the Iguana Lounge, the new one I had driven past on my tour of the city the day before. But it was not within walking distance, we wanted to drink but there is a Deputy Sheriff, an Air Force officer and the General Counsel for the State of frickin Oklahoma in our group, plus we're all moms, so driving was out of the question.

Then it struck me. This is what I do. If something needs to happen, I can make it happen. In Milwaukee, I can generally charm my way into anything by pulling out the southern accent. Here, I am rendered useless. Here, they can detect the ever so slight Midwestern, harsher inflections in my tone and they immediately identify me as an outsider. How could I possibly use THAT to my advantage?

Suffice it to say, the Iguana Lounge sent a limo to pick us up, gave us the best table in the house, satiated us with salsa made by the fairy nymphs of cilantro and offered us up a signature sangria swirl that, by comparison, equals nothing. My contact was the executive chef/manager, a wonderful man by the name of Lee. He greeted our limo by saying, where's my Angela? When all was said and done, he paid for our ride back to the hotel, provided us  with a complimentary shot of Tequila and said to me, if you're ever back in town, come see us again. No strings. No expectations. Just pure Oklahoma hospitality.

The girls were suspicious. What in the hell did you promise that guy to get him to do that for us?  Gina insisted, "from now on you are the official group negotiator.  I am in awe of your ability to so easily talk people into doing things for you (and us). Amazing talent!! And funny as hell to watch. I bow to the master, Obi Won, please teach me your Jedi mind trick so that I too can control the Force!! :)"

I said girls, this is what I do.  I negotiate. And I had better be pretty damn good at it cause I got a lot of mouths to feed. But what was in it for him, they persisted?  Didn't he expect to come back to our hotel and get a little something for his efforts? And there it was. My chance to tell these women what they, me, we all forget at times. The Iguana Lounge hosted us because we are a formidable, powerful group of women, the fucking Leaders of the Free World. We lit that place on fire and NOT because of our hot flashes.

Lest we forget, we must raise our expectations to beckon the universe to ascend to meet our demands. Or as the Bible says, ask and you will be given, seek and you will find. Please, do not assume I am using the Holy Bible to justify a night out on the town. I am simply saying in this life, the one we are living right now, it is up to us to make the choice to live it well, to ask for what we want and to settle for nothing less. If somebody tells you no or they turn out to be something less than you expected, either walk away or negotiate your way to a better life.

At the end of the evening, we went back to our hotel and took over the breakfast area, turning it into a makeshift disco. The girls were talking the staff into anything and everything we desired.  Turn the music up, turn the ice and soda fountain back on, do you mind if we dance?

The night ended with Robin dancing for us. There is nothing, not anything you could ever fathom that is more satisfying or captivating than watching this woman dance, because she dances not for herself, but for us.

Fear not, for mother Mary was watching over us. I'm not Catholic so I'm hoping I won't be cursed or struck down for writing this but I have always believed a young woman who would be impregnated by the holy spirit as a virgin would be strong enough to understand why we, The Leaders of the Free World, do what we do.

There is power there. We may not understand it right now but one day, if we allow ourselves to believe, we too will change the world.

Last photo provided courtesy of Robin Thomas, dancing queen.