New Job. Week Three.

I woke up with eyelash glue still on and there are sparkles everywhere. I don't think I was dreaming that I saw Dita Von Tease and 30 drag queens last night. My boss calls shots of benedictine "medicine" and offers it to cure every ailment- at 5pm, at 5am, it's all the same to him. The music is so loud I crawl across the bar to get orders and sometimes I imagine the DJs are upstairs fighting over the ipod, one winning a song until the other prys it out of his hands and plays the next. I have not confirmed if this is what is actually happening, but the image works. When things get too serious we take a dance break and if I put on just the right smile WIll the 6'5" bartender will throw me up in the air as if I were a doll. Sometimes he shakes his drinks by handing me the tins and lifting me up and down. I wear a bustier, a tutu and combat boots to work. I wear feathers in my hair. There is a magician wearing a suit in the back room you can only get to through a secret passageway and you have to know someone with the code. I know the code, but I'll need your credit card first. There are 5-8 people tending bar at any moment and on any given night I will dodge camera crews, mariachi bands, and girls in pasties to get you your drink. We really only have what's on the menu. Stick to the menu. Seriously. This is an opportunity to try something new. Do not try and impress me with the list of brands you usually drink. We won't have them and I won't have the time to be impressed. We don't serve beer or have the ingredients for a jack and ginger; we can't do a dirty martini and I won't really have time to talk about it with you. What I know is that what you get you will like and who you meet you will love. Come on down to Theater Bar y'all. It's a wild ride.