West Chester Dish

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas right? But what about Atlantic City? Does the same apply? Well, okay, okay, I’ll share… but it’s embarrassing.

The plan was fairly simple. My good friend’s husband sent out the evite weeks prior with the details for a surprise birthday dinner. We were instructed to be in Cube Libre Restaurant in the Tropicana at exactly 9:00pm. My friend was under the impression that they were going out to a nice dinner in a fun-filled city with her husband. Little did she know that we were huddled anxiously by the bar on the third floor waiting for her to enter.

When she did walk up the stairs to our private area she saw us, shed some tears and then proceeded to hit the “open” bar with everyone. It was shaping up to be a fantastic night.

After a few drinks/shots/glasses of wine were seated for dinner and started munching on the bread and well-balanced sweet and savory mango butter. The waiter came around to take our orders and I’m not sure if my taste buds or the alcohol were talking but I tried to order an entree of mango butter because I had fallen so hard for it. I told him to surprise me with an entree (he chose the salmon) and then chatted with the birthday girl.

As I apologized to her about lying about my real plans (understandable) I had to raise my voice to carry over the somewhat off key salsa music rising from the dance floor below. Eventually I noticed a crowd dancing and spurred by the mojitos and various shots I grabbed my friend’s hand and pulled her down the stairs to join the others on the dance floor.

We twirled and spun and giggled, doing our best to not hit the other dancers. A few songs later my friend didn’t feel so good from all of the shots and spinning. (I had just bought her some shot that was on fire!) We stopped for a moment to assess if we should keep dancing. As we rested I looked around. I noticed the form and grace of the couple behind us. My eye caught the glitzy detail in the dress of the woman behind her. I was beginning to feel a little out of my league. And that’s when it hit me.

Other patrons sat at their tables watching the professional dancers on the “stage” area that my friend and I had so gracefully crashed. I flushed with embarrassment and whispered to my friend, “Ummm… I think these are alll hired dancers.”

“I think you are right,” she smirked back. “And I still don’t feel very good.”

I quickly grabbed her arm, bowed to anyone (everyone) who was looking and held our arms out straight in front of us to do my best tango right off the dance floor and up the stairs to enjoy the rest of our dinner with her friends.

I felt the twinge of humility for a few moments and then shrugged it off realizing that we were probably more entertaining than the hired entertainers. And with that I enjoyed my salmon.

The Final Dish: And that was just the beginning of the night… the rest will stay in AC. What? I can’t tell you about all the good stuff… I mean, I already shared about the mango butter. You should go just to get some.