Saturday, December 21, 2013

Peacocks


One thing that most people don't know about peacocks is that they are annoying as hell. For one thing, they make a noise that sounds like a chubby child crying for ice cream. They invade urban areas to loiter in backyards and clog city streets. 



When I was in junior high school, I visited my cousins who live in California. I woke up at their house and the first thing I noticed was how the air in California smells different; moist, cool and fragrant, like the perfume counter at Bloomingdales. Stepping outside onto the soft dewy Pasadena grass, the second thing I noticed was the peacocks. The peacocks in California were running rampant like squirrels in Minnesota. 

I remember my cousin rolling her eyes and shaking her head, "Oh yeah. We have wild peacocks all over the place here." 

The irony of the peacock problem is obvious. You have these gorgeous creatures, majestic, exotic and other-worldly. Their plumage shines with an iridescent glow.  



But then when you take a few clicks back, peacocks are embarrassing. They engage in show-off rituals in oft failed attempts to get laid.





They have a certain sadness to their faces. Their luminous blue cheeks puff with tiny indignation, like a carnival queen who comes too late to the party.




All dolled up and only a backyard to strut circles in. It's pathetic.

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I seem to find myself having the same night out, over and over and over again. It starts with the costume: Bright high heels. Bold red lipstick.







  1. Step one is getting ready. You get ready to go out. 
  2. Next comes grabbing a cab. You grab a cab to go to the club.
  3. Then you stand in line. You stand in line to get into the club.
  4. (You stand in line some more...)
  5. (...and some more...) 

  6. Inside the club you get drinks. You get drinks to get yourself going.
  7. Then it's time to do shots. You do shots to get drunk. 
  8. There is music, flash lights, and standing around.
  9. There are sparklers for people who order bottles. You order bottles for your table.
  10. You post pictures to Facebook and check in at locations. You check in because that shows you were there. You were there.

"OK guys, if you don't have reservations or a table, you're not getting in. OK?"

"How much does it cost to get a table?" I ask my friend.

"Oh. Thousands."

"Of dollars??"

If you are lucky, you get to Step 11, which is stumble into a cab and fish out your debit card to get your battered body back to your home address.

In the morning, you wake up, you regret Step 10 and you send out some text messages. The party line is that last night was So Much Fun and you nod in agreement. 

Totally, totally.



What are you up to tonight?






1 comment:

  1. Peacocks remind me of a boy that I once knew. I think he walked around with a mirror constantly fixed to his face, but he was pretty sad, too. I don't think he knew where the mirror ended and he began. Nice writing, Susan. I hope that you are feeling better.

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