Or, how I made more money in 20 minutes at a local bar than I did during a seven-hour shift at a high-class resort
September 13, 2007
It was an average night at work. I set up for an hour and waited tables for the next six. No, it's not glamorous, but it does pay the bills. I made a little over $100.
Finally, when all the plates were cleared, I ran for the showers and traded in my uniform for a flowing skirt, tank top and slippers. My destination: Tip Ups (formerly Bocalino) in Kihei. There was a booty shakin' contest I was fixin' to win.
Some of my friends were already there, so it was a comfortable scene to walk into. I took a look around to size up the competition. My friend said this would be easy for me, but the room was packed and I was beginning to feel nervous.
Around 12:15, the members of Kilohana (the band playing that night and in charge of the contest) asked everyone who wanted to participate to take the floor. My confidence began to waver when the dance floor disappeared beneath the feet of 20-25 people.
There was just one rule: shake your ass. Shake it better than anyone else.
The music began and the people came alive. I tried not to look at anyone else as to keep from being distracted. Do you know how hard it is to keep a beat when you watch someone without one? I'm telling you, it's tough!
The members of Kilohana filtered out the obvious by shining a flashlight on them. The second song began and it seemed to get harder for the judges, but it was finally down to the last four.
I was still in the running. But the blood drained from my face and they announced we would be dancing ONE AT A TIME.
The first girl to take the floor was wasted. Well, I hope she was wasted because she looked like a whore. Instead of poppin' and lockin', she straight up hit the floor and began to hump it vigorously. A spectator thought it would help to push a chair out on the floor for her and she began to hump that. Then, she turned to a man seated next to the dance floor and started grinding on him. It was a less dance competition, more cat-in-heat look.
The second girl was quite attractive and could move her hips but not in time with the rhythm.
I went third. I was winding and grinding, droppin' it and workin' it. But I did not actually show my ass, hump anything and I kept the beat.
The fourth girl seemed like a rocker chick with the way she sort of hopped with the beat, a little more punky than sexy.
The band then asked for the audience choice by round of applause. Chick One received boos from the girls and one wild scream from the man used as a prop. Chick Two got a round of polite applause.
For me, the place went wild with whistles, screams and applause. Chick Four also received a great review as she had four friends posted directly in front of the band.
That meant a dance-off between Chick Four and me. We both went out on the dance floor again and showed our moves. I just happen to have more of them.
Once again the crowd decided, but this time there was no question: I kicked ass, er, shook ass!
That meant two $100 bills—twice what I made that night serving food to tourists—dropped in my hand. I was all smiles. MTW
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