Halloween 2009 proved to be the most exciting Halloween Craig and I have yet experienced together. We went out with our new friends to a slightly posh restaurant on Main Street in Park City, "350 Main." We met up with Amy, who befriended us at the gym, her mom, Stacey (super nice and ex Miss Arizona), and Aubrey and Jeff (really cute couple). When Craig and I discovered that the restaurant probably wouldn't appreciate a decked out rugby chick complete with black eye and a cardboard-box-enclosed Craig with Excedrin, alarm clock, and bottle of water taped to its top and lampshade for a head (one night stand), we decided to make a quick costume change. I ended up as a cocktail party zombie and Craig a safari joe.
Our night ended up with a monstrous (forgive the pun), only permissible annually tab. Because, rather than deciding responsibly to end our night there, we decided to head down the street to "Harry-Os," an exclusive (insert pretentious snort) nightclub armed with its very own VIP list. We were assured by our sweet, lovable friend Amy that her gym and spa co-worker used to work here as a cleaning lady and that she had secured our spot on the VIP list, thus avoiding a steep $20/person cover charge. So, Amy put on her best "authoritative" face, pronouncing that, "Yes, so-and-so" had arrived. The doorman, after reviewing the list a short time later, revealed that we, in fact, were not on this list. He graciously told us that he could put us on the list, and sweet Amy decides that this would be the right time to explain further that "my friend used to work here, she used to be the cleaning lady here, and she said she could get us on the list." So, needless to say, the doorman explains that the club rarely lets its employees on the VIP list, "especially the cleaning lady."
We were all good sports, though, and started cracking up in semi-buzzed laughter at this ridiculously snotty comment and the hilarity of the situation. Our night proceeded, however much more expensively than the intended plan, and the following are the pictures of our bourgeois nightclub celebration.
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