When we last left our heroine, she was sitting at Table Number 3 at the Brahmin, in front of the camera crew for TNT's Boston Finest, waiting for the speed date to begin. The event was supposed to start at 7:30. If you've never been to a speed dating event, here's what happens. The girls sit at a numbered table. Then, they put a guy at each table. You "date" for 8 minutes, someone blows the whistle and the guys all move down one table. At the end of the night, each person writes down who they were interested in, and if there's a match, the speed dating people exchange your information. It typically doesn't take more than an hour. I figured that I'd be home by 9:30 and in bed by ten.
Because I was there a bit early, I was able to sit back and peruse the "merchandise" as it walked in the door. A couple of the guys were cute and looked like really nice guys. There was Adorable Goofy Smile guy. Lumberjacky Guy in Flannel with Beard. Stylish Tall Guy in Awesome Sweater. I was looking forward to meeting them. As they walked in, they all assembled near the bar area across the room from us. The two groups, guys and girls, kept stealing glances at each other, but we weren't mingling or talking to each other. It was like an awkward middle school dance, except there were also five or six guys holding television cameras milling around.
I began a conversation with the girl sitting next to me. We made small talk. She asked if I knew anything about the show and we shared the knowledge that we each had (which wasn't much). As it was already 7:45, she asked if I had done speed dating before and if it usually started late. I told her that I had and it didn't. We surmised that they may be waiting for more people to show up before they start.
We were curious about who the girl was that they were filming. We hadn't seen the cameras pointed at anyone yet. We were also still a bit suspicious about why we were really there. The TV people had been a little too forthcoming with the information that we did have. All of the sudden, two blondes walked in the door. The first walked in with confidence and the camera guys seemed to jump to life, so I assumed that this was our TV star. She sat next to me at Table 4. My stomach flipped a little bit when I thought that I would definitely be in the camera shot the whole time if this was the girl. But, then, she leaned into me and said, "Are you the girl cop?" I realized very quickly by her breath that her confidence was all liquid and if she was asking me if I was the cop, then this couldn't be the girl.
I began to become more suspicious of what we were doing there. We had now been sitting around for a half-hour. This girl next to me was clearly wasted. The camera people were all sitting around and watching us. The guys were on one side of the room and the girls were seated at the other. Maybe this was some kind of weird psychological experiment? How long would we wait around for before we got fed up and stormed out? Would the genders ever start mingling together? What if there was an endless amount of alcohol? Just what would these crazy people do?? I mean, THAT sounded like a great reality show.
To add to my suspicion, at this point, two guys, who I will refer to as "Townie 1 and Townie 2" came in a few minutes later. When you think of the typical Boston guy persona, these are the guys that fit it. There was a "business casual" dress code for this event. They came in wearing ratty t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers, all of which were three or four sizes too big. Townie 1 was the "mouth". He led the way and yelled, "Let's get this pah-ty stah-ted!"as he walked into the room. Townie 2 didn't say a word and stood next to him with a blank, empty look on his face. Townie 1 and Townie 2 walked up to the bar, did a couple of shots and then ordered two jack and cokes and sat across from the Drunkie Next To Me and her friend.
At this point, we were coming up on 8:15. We had been sitting there for 45 minutes waiting for this to start. The girls were getting impatient. The guys were getting drunk. No one was saying a word and the only sound was the house music playing in the lounge. Suddenly, the Drunkie Next To Me yelled at Townie 1, "How could you say something like that to me??? F*** you! F*** YOU!" and got up and marched to the door. She turned back to her friend, who was sitting there open-mouthed, and yelled, "Get my purse." The friend sat there stunned. "Get my F***-ING purse!!" she yelled one last time and stormed out. We all turned to the friend to see what she was going to do. The friend sheepishly and silently grabbed the purse on the bench and followed her out.
I turned to the girl on the other side of me and said, "There's definitely something fishy going on here." Was the Drunkie's tantrum all an act? Will we ever get to speed-date? Will any of the guys be sober enough to talk to? Tune in for Part 3...
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