A night out with staff, so far I've avoided most of them, the bonfires, the Karaoke nights, but tonight the girls - waitress and chef - have gone to town on their day off to party and arrived far too early at Bloom.
I get the text at work - "We've bought you tickets....bring M***". M*** is the charming one, pleasant, always smiling, a few of our alternative sexual identity waitresses have felt safe enough around him to declare that he's their unicorn. Unlike myself he's intuitively likable.
We arrive, 10:30, still way too early. The club is empty but they're on a tear, by "they" I mean the waitress, a formerly straight but gang-raped-turned-lesbian-who-would-fucking-blame-her is well on her way. I gotta be straight and sober, I'm M***'s ride back.
The night passes, the waitress gets increasingly drunk, you can see why she'd be a mark, she can't hold her liquor, and here - well, it's the safest place in the world, everyone is looking out for her, but elsewhere...
M*** and I, we carry her back to her hotel room, drop her on her bed, then head home.
The next day, working, busy, I'm waiting her arrival. I want to take the piss. You know it. Me, I've had a few of these nights, always, the next morning, "Never again..." I'd tell myself, but she comes upstairs around 3 for a coffee...
"That was the best night out ever..."
Not the expected reaction, but I have to admire it, commit to a course of action and then follow through, damn the consequences and the torpedoes. She's hurting, bad, but, in her mind, and mercifully there are no videos, it was worth it.