Lured by the promise of Cheap Food, Cheap Drinks, I slipped on skinny jeans and strappy heels last Friday night and joined a few BH moms at the Avalon Hotel in Beverly Hills for Happy Hour. From its humble 1949 beginnings as The Beverly-Carlton apartments, the Avalon Hotel went through an extreme makeover to become a retro-chic destination in 1999.
It’s only taken me thirteen years to see it for myself.
I confess: until last Friday, I was a Happy Hour Virgin.
All that changed with a cheerful invite from fellow BH moms Jean, Franny and Deborah who sat poolside, sipping frosty libations and beckoning me to their table. Last to arrive, I wound my way through women in flirty dresses and men in summer suits checking out the scene from brightly colored cabanas. When I reached my friends, who typically reside in the trenches of raising kids and making a buck, I sensed a more relaxed attitude. They fit right in nibbling on gourmet pizzas and sipping sophisticated spirits.
Jean’s Skinny Margarita looked good. I ordered one and asked our waiter for a calorie count. “336, ma’am,” he answered, straight-faced. My jaw dropped. How did he know that? “I’m kidding!” he smiled.
We BH moms like to joke around, but we’re also on the look-out to help each other. Whether we’re talking transportation – is it okay to let our kid ride a bike to school on a busy street? Or jobs – does anyone know a good internship opportunity? Or school – what teacher did your son have for AP Gov?
Sharing tips probably didn’t factor into the origins of “Happy Hour,” which began as a U.S. Navy practice of scheduling an hour to relax by boxing, wrestling or on-ship performances. During 1920’s Prohibition, Happy Hour meant an alcoholic pre-dinner drink at a speakeasy. Today, Happy Hour is most popular with twenty-something patrons.
When I was that age, I missed the whole phenomenon due to my quest to be my own boss. I would leave my producer assistant job, head straight to the gym and after working out, grab a burrito To-Go on my way home. I’d write until midnight and then drop to sleep, exhausted. What was I thinking?
This schedule I devised caused me to a) come down with mononucleosis (the kissing disease, without the benefit of the kissing!) and b) miss out on a perfectly good Cheap Food, Cheap Drinks ritual.
By the time I figured out how to be my own boss, I was married and had a baby (my new boss).
Now that the other BH moms have drawn me to the Dark Side, I’ll never be the same. Happy lasted longer than an hour and caused me to be late to my dinner date with Mr. UnHollywood. He immediately noticed the new gleam in my eyes, “Are you drunk?”
One Skinny Margarita does not a drunk BH Mom make! Anyway, what are you up to after work next Friday?