The main woman on the door where I work is named Athena, and she trained me how to work the door. I listened, because it was clear to me from a minute at working the crowd management that the woman has ice in her veins. The only ice I have in my veins is slushy, like a Slush Puppy or a Sno-Cone, and it clogs up my arteries and heart valves. When the training was through, working the door on my own, I came up with a song to remind me of how much ass Athena kicks, and because she don’t take shit from nobody. The song’s lyrics are…
“Athena, you are the best hostess of all time… You don’t take shit from… nobody!” Trust me its more endearing when put to a tune, and the facts of the song are absolutely correct. Well, Athena is moving to California soon (she be bicoastal) and I will be taking over her Saturday night hosting shifts, at least for a while. This past week I visited her and her family at her house, and in true 60 Minutes style, filmed one last interview with a hero. Or is that Oprah style? Whichever it is, I bit it…
Her dad made pasta and cooked meat, her mom did a salad and served beers, and wouldn’t let me wash the dishes. The Miami Heat saw Shaq get brought down to the paint by Ben Wallace’s stuffing of a dunk and we watched it happen on TV. After dinner was an ice cream cone the size of a near-grown child’s head, Vanilla Peanut Butter Cup, at a huge ice cream farm, which included what we assumed was about fifteen peanut butter cups total. Though the Heat lost, Athena’s mom made a good point about how Shaq could bring it home to Miami in Game Six. Word.