The Birthday of the Ohio Sloth
We’re in an Uber, these two sisters from Dayton, Ohio who’ve invited me to their friends 30th birthday party. We met less than an hour ago at Renegade Brewery in my most recent sojourn to Denver, Colorado on a quest for Tall Strong White Women. Initial skirmishes show promise.
One sister seems more put together, a financial analyst for Big Oil, she explains. The other is superiorly drunk, only communicating through high fives, Weird Stares and masculine Bro Hugs. She apparently is a nurse of sorts and vaguely relates a story of a patient wanting her to “drizzle” on her face — at the request of the patients husband. I make a few further inquiries to clarify the story but all I get are The Weird Stares and Bro Hugs.
During this uber ride, I am offered housing in the Fancy Sister’s condo as I currently debating whether or not I should stay in this city. I take her proposition under consideration but wonder about the implications.
After procuring numerous miniature bottles of Jose Cuervo for ourselves and one very cheap six-pack for the party, we arrive at Denver’s equivalent of a fancy condo overlooking the Rocky Mountains. On the rooftop patio, with an adjourning game room, the Birthday Girl stands on the lip of the elevated decorative rock garden, next to the propane fire pit that emits a high pitch wail no one seems concerned with and makes a speech — in a head to toe Sloth outfit. I remember little of the soliloquy except her imitation of the sound(s) — there’s more than one — a sloth makes. When she concludes, it takes me, the stranger no one there knows, to initiate a round of applause.
The night continues, the dynamic between the sisters and I falling victim to a preponderance of drink and unclear intent. Eventually, a third sister who was spoken of as, “Cold and distant” earlier in the evening arrives with her husband. Both appear confused as to why a person of color is involved in this social outing and sensing this, I begin plotting my overly complex exit strategy: Summon the entire party together — a conflagration of people I’ve never met in my entire life nor have any chemistry with — for a giant group photo.
In the aftermath of the group returning to their various perches throughout the rooftop game room, I slink towards the elevator. The Bro Hug sister spots me and follows me. We share one last Weird Stare and kiss.
