Ships full of cow bones wrecked, bones and skulls washed ashore on Anegada, British Virgin Islands hence Cow Wreck Beach. The Cow Killer rum drink is one of their specialties.
I shimmied and squeezed into the green, yellow-trimmed-one-piece cocktail waitress costume. The outfit’s scoop neck, and the V that formed in the front and back from the high-cut legs were like arrows that pointed to everything private.
The stockings underneath helped, but when I grabbed the bottom between my index fingers and thumbs to pull it down, it slid back up.
On my only night waitressing in the smoke-filled discotheque, I hoisted a brown plastic tray over my head topped with Tangeray and tonics, strawberry daiquiris, pina coladas and more. I slid through crowds of polyester attired men who flaunted gold watches and chains, and Farah Fawcett-haired women adorned in jewelry, push up bras, halter dresses, jumpsuits and platform sandals.
The Admirals sang the latest dance songs and pounded the electric piano, guitars and drums, and blared horns. The songs reverberated, and the dance floor filled.
Dancers bumped hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder and hip to shoulder. They stepped high, shuffled, slid, dipped, twisted and twirled combining the jitterbug, samba and waltz.
While the customers partied, I worked. I leaned over to place drinks on a low table and the bottom of my outfit slid higher and my top slipped lower. I made my decision.
After work, I approached the owner and told him that I was uncomfortable wearing the costume. He understood and asked me if I would wear a tennis dress and serve drinks and lunch around the pool. I agreed.
While I worked poolside, a photographer from the local “Resorter” magazine approached and asked if he could photograph me for the cover. I consented, and he returned and shot several photos for the July 1977 magazine. I believe that this was more about advertising the club than me.
I recognize the irony that I refused to wear a risqué cocktail outfit, but I agreed to pose in a bikini. I felt cheap in the cocktail outfit, but wearing a bikini in a beach resort seemed normal.
Last week, unbeknownst to me, a local paper “revisited” the July 1977 Resorter issue and displayed my old photo in their paper. I was surprised that I was ever that young.
- Working Undercover as a Las Vegas Cocktail Waitress – Bloomberg (bloomberg.com)
I was touched when my daughter gave me a framed “I Love Lucy” photo that she recently won at an event. It reminded me that we watched “I Love Lucy” reruns when she was five-years old. It was special because I introduced her to the comedy that I grew up with and loved.
When I was young we watched “Leave it to Beaver” and “Father Knows Best”. The media promoted family, fun and moral fortitude.
Today, parents must monitor television shows and commercials to prevent their children from being exposed to vile language and sex. What happened to our society?
Did the media change us, or did our lax morals change the media?
- 101 best written television shows (holykaw.alltop.com)
- Hollywood Auction- Johnny Carson and ‘I Love Lucy’ (ktla.com)
- Best-written TV (smh.com.au)
- Everything Old is New Again (blogyourpassion.wordpress.com)
Baltimore’s Inner Harbor — Sailabration (photo by dorothyadele)