Short Stories - non fiction

Confessions of a Rock Fluffy

When I started this blog I made a decision that I would not write anything mean spirited or humiliating about anyone, regardless of how juicy it was. However, I have exempted myself from this clause. 

I have a confession to make. Back in the ’80s I fancied myself as a “Rock Fluffy”. This is a term that a former colleague coined back in the day. 

What is a rock fluffy you ask? Well a rock fluffy first and foremost has fluffy big hair. The bigger the hair, the smaller the hips. A rock fluffy leans towards classic rock music, but in my case I am not limited to rock. A rock fluffy wears high heals and short skirts. So big hair, high heals, short skirts and lots if hair spray and make up, combined with an appreciation for Aerosmith. Got the picture?

So back in the 80s, I used to like to go out to the local outdoor patio bars with my friends. One place in particular, Hurley’s Rooftop, was a favorite watering hole. So this one night I arrived at Hurley’s with Bruce (who I am now married to) and Mark (who I am no longer in touch with). We each ordered a beer, which was served to us in large plastic glasses. We then did the walk around to find the ideal place to perch. So we are walking through the crowded bar with our big beers, and we pass by the dance floor. Remember, I was dressed like a rock fluffy. Suddenly my high heal shoe gets caught on the corner of the dance platform. I literally went soaring through the air. Every last drop of beer flew up in the air, I landed face first on the ground in the middle of the dancers, and the beer landed on the back of my fluffed up head of hair. I was completely soaked, and I was totally embarrassed. 

Bruce had been leading us through the bar didn’t see the mishap. He just kept walking. Mark, who was following me, practically fell down laughing.

Me and my beer soaked head went to the ladies room to see about refluffing my hair. When I arrived in the restroom there was a young woman in there who was trying to dry herself. It seems that the droplets of beer that didn’t land on my head, landed on her ass. She was irrate. I stood there dripping with beer, looking absolutely like a drowned rat, and I lost it. I started to laugh. I mean, falling down laughing. The young woman went from sincerely wanting to commit homicide to also laughing uncontrollably. Two complete strangers, soaked in beer, crying we were laughing so hard. It was a moment in my life that I will never forget.

I often wonder if Bruce had been following me, instead of leading me, and had seen the rock fluffy fall, would he have married me? Or would that image have scarred him for life…..

You gotta laugh.


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