Two Shoes, No Shoes, One Shoe
A few weekends ago my buddies and I were down in Atlantic City. We were down at Revel, and for some reason, that weekend, it was just packed, I mean packed, with bachelorette parties. You could throw a chip in any direction and more likely than not you’d hit a girl in a short dress wearing a tiara or a sash. Now, as young men tend to do we started teasing each other about who should go after which girls. At the pool, we were discussing who we could throw in their general direction. Now, as we were cramming six guys in one room, the possibility of any shenanigans actually happening were slim to none, but still there was fun to be had.
I love a girl in sensible shoes, but I will say, all y’all look pretty amazing in heels. Yes, I know it’s a tad misogynistic, but it’s the truth. Heels and a little black (or blue, or red, or purple…) dress are my kryptonite. And truth be told, it’s the same for most men. I know it’s incredibly uncomfortable, and god forbid if you want to dance, but still, y’all look incredible. Now, as we gambled, obviously dressed in our finest, we joked amongst ourselves how we could definitively tell who amongst a bachelorette party was the most drunk, and which of the girls roving bro-packs would try to pick off. This is the system that we came up with:
The Shoe Scale:
This is the default state, a bridal party member at her prime. She may be a bit buzzed, definitely shouting too excitedly but she is still in control, knowing that she’s wearing her heels to look hot to trot, and possibly on the prowl for some eligible bachelors. Bros need not apply.
The night has worn on, dancing has happened, perhaps too much dancing. The need for comfort has now outweighed vanity, and the shoes have come off. Now, she still has them in her possession, most likely clutching her shoes in her non-drinking hand. She is either fairly drunk, or fairly sober. The fairly drunk one, she’s buzzed, she’s tired, she wants to hoof it back to the hotel room and the night is pretty much done for her. This is where the roving bro-lliances prowl, between the club and the hotel tower. However they take a risk, because the other no shoe girl, is the sensible one. The one who has to leave the club to take care of one calamity or the other that requires her to be fleet of foot and to move great distances without pain. Bro-sephs who approach will be put down with great prejudice, such is the risk of bro-fos hunting the no shoes.
This is the girl equivalent of a wounded gazelle. The one shoe. Any girl with any sense left that has lost, or chosen to take off one shoe, would take the other off. The fact that there is one shoe left on means that she can’t move very quickly, and her ability to walk in a straight line has been compromised. This is bro-heaven. They know that this girl is pretty far gone down alcohol lane. If the other members of the bachelorette party are not there to protect the one shoe, she is likely to be picked off by the bro-pack. The bridal party must always take care of the one shoes, this job being mostly done by the sensible no shoes.
Funny thing, our last night there, it was really late and we were going to smoke cigars on the Boardwalk. Lo and behold, three of the four girls staying across from us were locked out of their room.
None of them had shoes on.
We laughed all the way down to the Boardwalk.