PART I:
I had to drive into the city for a late meeting yesterday. Afterwards, I decided to drop by the club. I had my Sherri bag with me, but where to change? Hmmm. The club is in a quiet part of town and has a small parking lot off to the side, so what the heck, I'll just park there and change in the car, right?
And so I did. Used the vanity mirror for my makeup, changed clothes while keeping a sharp lookout. Thursdays are slow nights there, so no traffic. Put on my jewelry, nails, wig. All this takes at least 20 minutes, maybe more. When I'm done, I step out of the car to check my reflection in the car window. Adjust my stockings, smooth my skirt, fluff my hair. Then I put my bag and street clothes in the trunk.
I get my purse and as I'm locking the car door, I hear someone approaching. It's David, the club owner, asking if everything is alright. I say yes and ask him why. He said he'd been watching me, couldn't figure out what was going on, thought he'd check. What do you mean "watching me", I ask, and he points to a surveillance camera mounted on the building, aimed right at me.
I could have died right then and there! But David just laughed; in fact, he mooned the camera himself! then escorted me into the club. As we walked in, David called out to the half-dozen people at the bar, "Gentlemen, I present ... Sherri!" Turns out they'd all been watching on the camera monitor mounted above the cash register. Much laughter all round as I blulshed right down to my toes. I gave them all a big curtsey, to more laughter.
I took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink. Shorty the bartender pointed out my car, center stage on the monitor, and demonstrated the camera zoom. I turned to the guys at the bar and said, "Well, if I'd known I had an audience, I would have at least tried to be a bit more theatrical." I thought they were going to fall off their barstools laughing.