5K-rack and Quinceañeras

I survived the 5k-rack. I did it in under an hour and was only off by 32 minutes from the winning time. Go me. Also in the win column was that no one suffered an errant boob slap by getting near me.  The girls can get rambunctious sometimes.  I don’t remember much of the race, (I tend to block tramautic events) other than thinking that we had a nice view of the Capitol and that I was terrified that the wizened old grampa schlupping behind me was gaining and would beat me.  Thankfully I pulled ahead, but then staring at my ass might have been his plan all along.

look at my form

look at my killer athletic form

After that healthy start to the morning, we (Flippy, Hotness Macgillacutty, and moi) descended on the Princess’ Crystal City abode for another healthy round of mimosas, beer, ciggies, veggies and hummus.  Since it was bright and sunny, we decided to get one last sunbath in.  We loaded up our towels,  tanning goodies and beer and trotted out to the pool only to find the door to the decks was locked.  A wild goose chase or two later we learned that the decks were closed this weekend, blah,blah,blah.

Determined to get some sun in, we decided to walk to the Crystal City Water Park around the corner, where a sunny, yet secluded corner awaited us.

Now every time I’ve gone to visit the Princess, I’ve seen quinceañera birthday parties doing photo shoots in front of the Water Park. For those who aren’t familiar a quinceañera is the Latin version of a sweet sixteen birthday party combined with a debutante ball, only it’s celebrated for the girl’s fifteenth birthday. It’s rather like a mini-wedding, with the birthday girl wearing a gown (usually pink), having a groom-like escort, attendants and their escorts, flower girl, ring boy and a whole lotta chiffon.  And pink, there’s tons of pink.

Growing up with Puerto Rican friends and neighbors, I saw a lot of party prep for these things. Thankfully MommaPithy’s whackjob religious ideals prevented me from having a quinceañera. As you can imagine, I was devastated that I could parade around in pink ball gown all my own. Really, I am. Heartbroken. I cry myself to sleep at night just thinking about it.

We passed the pink party and made our way to the sunny nook, plopped down on our towels, slathered on tanning products whilst sipping beer apple juice in the middle of Crystal City.

Then, the unmistakable sounds of rustling taffeta emerged ahead of a sea of poof: they were coming up the path to take pictures in the sunny nook. And by they I mean a party of We scrambled to cover our beer apple juice bottles and after exchanging very awkward hellos and verifying that they didn’t need us to move, we plopped back down on our towels and started to think of England while ignoring the stares of 15-yr-old boys who probably thrilled for the first time that they agreed to been in the party.

Soon the pink poofers were gone, and we began to relax again, apple juice in hand. Just as we had reached Optimum Crispiness & Sweatiness, voices were heard and more pink taffeta was spotted.  Quinceañera party #2 was on their way for the grassy knoll photo op.

Pretty Pretty Princess Party Part Deux

Pretty Pretty Princess Party Part Deux

As you can see, this party opted for the top hat, pimp cane and watch chain look. Not pictured are the ridiculous tails that their jackets had.  They. were. classy.

Once again the awkward hellos were exchanged, only this time the boys recognized the apple juice we were sipping and invited us to join thier party, I suspect to facilitate their access to apple juice.  Sadly, I think the 4 bikini-clad babes would have looked far more classy than their Ghetto-Pimp Goes to the Chapel ensemble.

Maybe next time…


~ by pithycomments on September 19, 2008.

One Response to “5K-rack and Quinceañeras”

  1. […] like climbing a ladder, in the fog. (That same afternoon, my co-workers back in D.C., were running a 5k, which I had conveniently missed out on by taking this trip to Italy; I think karma struck back at […]

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