As we left Leila, she was taking all the clothes out of her closet and staring at them, hoping they would group themselves into amazing outfits she had never worn before. I don’t know why I’m talking in the third person, I’ll quit. Anyway, I was getting ready for the party, in my own scatterbrained way.
I finally got it narrowed down to two outfits, and was in the middle of putting on the first outfit, when I heard the doorbell ring. I put on my belt while going down the stairs, and my boots were still unzipped, and flapping around my ankles when I answered the door. Roxie said bye to her dad, and came upstairs with me, to kill some time before the party.
Once V’s friend showed up, we left for the St. Regis. We got there a little early, so mom gave us the grand tour, for the benefit of our friends. Mom’s version of the ‘grand tour’, is taking us to the best ladies’ room, then walking around aimlessly for a while. It might not of been a good tour, but it killed time, which was it’s point. In a little while, more people began showing up, and going into the ballroom. So we found Dad, and went in. The ballroom had been completely transformed. It was no longer the boring, sage room it usually is. It had been draped with cream colored curtains, there were tall silver tables and chairs everywhere, and for some reason, butterflies. But the butterflies were mostly isolated to the dense cloud of ribbons hung from the ceiling above the bar, where they were swinging happily and glittering. It was like a random winter wonderland, mixed with springtime and food.
There were four food stations, where professional chefs had made their specialties: lamb, this amazing dish I can’t spell that might me duck liver, and pate (if I even spelled that right), sushi, and a desert table. I only had time to try the two Italian dishes, lamb, and chocolate cheesecake, before all four of us decided to go downstairs. We didn’t get very far, before I got a text from mom, saying the tree lighting was about to start.
After the tree was lit, Roxy and I went downstairs to search for the alleged hot chocolate that was supposed to be on the sixth floor. We walked around the sixth floor for a little while, then once we gave up, and walked over to the elevators, we met two women getting off of one. We asked them if they knew where the hot chocolate was, and they pointed us in it’s direction. So we finally got some hot chocolate.
After enjoying our hot chocolate, we rented some skates. The ice rink was pretty empty, so we could skate together, and not make a traffic jam. The small crowd continued to thin, and for about twenty minutes, we even had the rink to ourselves. A random photographer came out and took our pictures. He gave us each a Polaroid before he left. Roxie’s picture was very cute, but once mine turned out, I saw that he had snapped the picture while the wind was blowing, and you can’t really see my face. Before I realized it, an hour and a half had passed. So we left the ice, and sat down to take off our skates. Only then, did I realize just how sore my feet were. I was beginning to regret wearing tights with ice skates. In hind sight, bad idea.
Once I was back in my high heels, and Roxie in her boots, we walked back to the floor, where the party was. A lot of people had already cleared out, so we sat in front of the fireplace with V and A, her best friend. Roxie and I wanted to show them our pictures, and Roxie did, but I couldn’t find mine, so there I was, pulling everything out of my purse, and riffling through all my stuff, in the middle of the St. Regis. So I gave up, and we just started talking. We hung out for a little while, but when the bartender started to pack up, we took the hint, and left. Surprisingly, about half, or a third of the party goers were still there when we left.