Madness with MadGlam

Pic courtesy of MadGlam

So the great RIC had the pleasure of MadGlam's mighty presence recently. Before she came, I warned her: "Are you sure you want to come to Richmond? I repeat: Richmond." And she fervently expressed her excitement at coming. I may be slightly exaggerating on the excitement part. It is RIC after all.

Anyhoo, I picked her up at the train station and she arrives in typical MadGlam style: wearing leopard print pants and sparkly shoes. But then there is the enigma that is MadGlam, she carries her own luggage and travels by train (first class, but still, by train).

The first thing she says to me is, "Take me to get a po-boy sandwich." And I was like, "What the @#$% is a po-boy sandwich?" I literally had to Google it. MadGlam turned to me, amazed, "You live in the South and don't know what a po-boy is?" Even with the Google image and description in hand I had no clue what she was talking about. MadGlam comes to Richmond and her first request is... a gargantuan sandwich?

Well, her wish was my command. We headed over to Pixie Minxie's, who is much more informed of all things RIC, and asked her about this mysterious po-boy and where I could procure one for my dear leopard-print clad friend. She immediately Yelped it and we found a place that was, of course, a million miles away. I had to use Google maps, because I'm one of those RICers who sticks to my neighborhood. If I have to cross a toll, I avoid the place at all costs. But this was MadGlam, so toll be damned.

After the po-boy, it was time to parrttyyyyy, of course. I had devised a plan beforehand with Pixie Minxie to take MadGlam to a typical, no frills bar. I thought, how hilarious it would be to see her in what my co-worker would describe as a 'Murica setting. She is used to glitz and glam, after all, not beer and buffalo wings. But when we got to the place, it wasn't 'Murica enough for her! My plan backfired.

"Let's go to a redneck bar," she then said. I laughed. As if. Pixie was like, "OK, I know a place." Wait... what? This is a serious plan now? "Uh, no. It's going to be full of truck drivers," I said. But apparently MadGlam really wanted to hangout with truck drivers. She met one on the train who told her he was best friends with drug dealers. She then thought it was a good idea to let him watch her suitcase while she went to the restroom. I told her she was nuts, he could've stuffed something in her suitcase! "No, no. I checked," she said, as if it were totally normal to hangout with truck drivers who are best friends with drug dealers.

So, of course, we ended up at a redneck bar. As soon as we got there, MadGlam went to the restroom and came out, eyes bright with excitement, "I love this place already! These ladies in the toilet - who complimented my pants, by the way - told me that last week, this 'skank' was so drunk, she couldn't wait to get to the stall, so she pulled down her pants and peed all over the bathroom floor." Oh. My. God.

To say I was horrified is an understatement (and since when does MadGlam use the word 'skank'?). But MadGlam simply took the drink I had ordered for her and went to the dance floor, where a live band was playing. Pixie is a laid back gal who is very cool and has fun anywhere. She grooved with MadGlam while I leaned against a pool table and tried not to touch anything for fear of contamination.

The band was actually really good and they played classic rock tunes that I love. I was surprised that MadGlam was so into the music, since she prefers Frenchie pop. She claimed to recognize a few of the songs - actually one song - but I'm pretty sure she still confuses band names with designer handbag labels ("No MadGlam, you're thinking of Balenciaga, this is Bon Jovi.")

She then decided she wanted to meet a cop. Don't ask me why. So she goes to the bartender and says in her French accent, "Hello, excuse me, are there any cops here?" He looked confused, so I explained that she is from out of town and it's on her to-do list. I realize now that that sounded really bad, as he then turned to her and said, "I can be a cop, baby." Oh. My. God. Unfazed, she turned around and went back to the dance floor. I laughed uncomfortably, asked for the tab and tried not to grimace when he said, "Sure, baby." Ew. Really?

When we turned to leave, we spied MadGlam chatting with a guy. "Shoo, was a he a cop?" I asked a bit later. "No, another truck driver, but I don't think this one is friends with drug dealers."

What can I say? There is always madness when MadGlam is around!

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