The "Igloo Experience"

I slid chopsticks into the bun on top of my head as the final touches to my oriental hairstyle. Bright green Eastern dragons laced my black see through birthday dress. Matched perfectly with my new clunky combat boots. I felt powerful, and ready for the "Igloo Experience", a date I reserved a month prior. I had a weird feeling about it as the night finally approached. Now I know it was my intuition teling me this night would not go as planned...at all. As a reward for survivng, I promised myself I would not repeat what happened that night. No regrets.

It began to rain as we left the apartment, as expected. My fiance Art and I caught an uber since driving and parking in D.C. is always a pain. The trip there was uneventful, but when we pulled up to Decades that weird feeling I mentioned earlier intensified. We went inside to check in. I crossed my fingers, covered by my oversized coat, hoping what I just saw on the way in as not what I thought it was.

We followed the waiter to the dirty bubble on the sidewalk lining the busy street. Art and I made immidiate eye contact, and telepathically decided whether or not we would stay. I shrugged and said "We've come all the way here, We might as well get our money's worth." If only I knew then what was to unfold.

The "Igloo" of the "Igloo Experience" was a small, foggy, worn out plastic tent like structure. Inside was a portable heater, and a lawn table with two chairs. I did not expect the igloo to be a castle of ice and snow, but this makeshift "experience" was not at all what was described on the reservation website. I tried to keep a positive attitude, and ordered us some shots of tequila to get the night started. The appetizers were good, but we were nice and buzzed and got our entree's to go. The waiter dropped off the boxes and the check, and this is when it gets crazy.

We were prepared to pay a set rate, minus the deposit I paid a month prior. I went inside to inquire about my incorrect check, and the manager blew me off. "The check is correct, if you cannot afford it you should not have come." He laughed. Completely taken back, I calmly responded "Its not about. the money, not to mention this was not worth it." Somehow the conversation escalated and I stomed out of the restaurant and back into the tent to infom Art. Jokingly, he suggested we dine and dash, something I as a bartender have never considered doing. Although he was joking, I was so infuriated and intoxicated that I agreed, and told him to get an Uber.

Five minutes later, the white Toyota parks across the street. We scan the area, no waiter in sight, and dashed across the street. I reached the car, alone, and knocked on the window in an exhillerating rush. The doors were locked, and as the Uber driver looked past me, he shook his head no. I turned back to see Art, tussling with our waiter! I ran back over to them, attempting to plea our case and break them up. Out of nowhere, an old, drunken, drugged man yelled "Go back, pay your tab!" He raced over to us in the middle of the street and began to get physical, attempting to help the waiter get us back to the restaurant. "Get off of him!" I yelled. The angry stranger then turned his random fury towards me, threw (and missed) a kick. In a thunderous voice, he theratened to kill us. His small female companion tried her hardest to hold him back. As he came towards me I reached in my bag to get my Self Defense Kit. Art put him in a chokehold before he got too close to me, and I pepper sprayed the rowdy drugged man in his face. Apparently, I used the entire bottle causing him to scurry off into the night.

We were "escorted" back into the restaurant, adrenaline still rushing from what had just transpired outside. Everyone was yelling, out of breath and emotions were at an all time high. We were prepared to pay the tab, but was no one going to draw attention to the drunken stranger that intervened? The owner pretended to call the cops, and we were back to pay, go home and forget this ever happened. On my final walk out of the restaurant, feeling robbed, I kicked the "igloo experience" tent as hard as I could. (I appreciated my shoe choice at this very moment.)

Jogging as far away as we could, I cried out to Art "I have never done that! I feel so crazy!" He felt guilty for suggesting it, but had to admit it was exhilarating. Still very drunk, I touched my face, and let out a loud, crippling shriek. The pepper spray! It was all over my hands and bag, on my dress and in my hair. The new Uber arrived, and Art rushed me into the car, trying to ease the extreme panic I was now in. All I remember of the ride is stopping for jugs of milk to flood my eyes. I had never felt anything like this fire burning in my eyes. The uber driver was amazing and got us to our car safely. I rode home with my head out of the window, crying, trying to catch my breath and most importantly, regain vision!

By the time we got home I could see just enough to get inside. As the door closed behind me, I kicked off my new, clunky combat boots. Slipped out of my black see through birthday dress, laced with green oriental dragons and put it in a grocery bag.

I stood in the mirror with swollen red eyes, embarrased and exhausted. Slowly, I removed the chopsticks from my fallen bun and wiped off what was left of my make up. I showered and let the water rinse away this most recent case of the birthday blues. As I sat on the toilet, pouring coffee creamer onto my thighs, I remembered the weird feeling I had earlier about the night and immediately had regrets of making the plan in the first place.

As shaken up as I was, we would not tell what happened that night, in detail. We had good intentions, but made a dumb decision. I learned to trust my instinct. The "Igloo Experience" turned out to be atrocious, I can confidently say, I will never, ever dine and dash again.