Okay... So we didn't actually play in the play Chicago. We played in actual Chicago. The city.
I'm sitting by a window the size of my life in the beautiful Hilton Chicago Oak Brook Hills Resort. Some of my beautiful cast mates are scooping up eggs at the buffet while some are just chatting. Musiq Soulchild is relaxed and stunner shades free when he rises from his breakfast nook to hand out hugs to my hubby and I as well as the Musical's cheery dancers. It's sunny and the pool, golf course and lake are my eye candy. I'm still in full face make-up. Lashes and all. Last night I partied with the cast of Love Jones the Musical. I woke up like this.
Chicago is one of my favorite places to dance. The DJ scene here is as eclectic as a Parisian night club (Google Favela Chic). With help of a Chicago city pal, I chose the Underground night club. The reviews were awful on yelp, "mean security, high drink minimums, strict dress code, hipsters". Sounds like my cup of tea. I knew I'd enter an eclectic crowd of the cities elite with sprinkles of starving artists and passionate dj's (follow @DJFrankWhite & @PHNM on Instagram immediately).
We walked down the stone staircases after security smiled us in (chocolate mohawked bachelors clad in black fitted button ups and rolled up sleeves, showcasing their arms the size of small babies). My girls and I were dressed to the ratchet nines. The slits in my House of CB dress reached the ceiling and the sequins on my girlfriend outshined the moon. Ten Foot Stilettos.
Upon reaching our table, we were greeted with two hosts. The drinks took A Couple Of Forevers to come out (30 mins) but once the cash was squared away and the champagne lights began to flicker, dancing ensued.
You can't bring a cast of 20 people to a party and expect anything less than what was seen on October 2nd. Judgement free booty shaking. Bald headed hair swinging. By the bottle champagne swigging. A good dang time.
The DJ's allowed me to hit the mic and introduce my party and give a castmate birthday shout out. I'll be honest, I was nervous. In my head I was like "deez white people bout to boo me off the stage". I strutted my little Gianvito Rossi shimmering stilettos over to the booth, holding my mans hand. The DJ hands me the mic with a big red haired bearded smile. The crowd cheered for my squad, and I instantly felt like a rock star (I would usually refer to this as ego...but I'm being non-judgmental).
The Underground girls brought out candle lit cookies. Some of the Chicagoan Barbie dolls pulled on my arm and shouted loving drunken kindness in my ear. I felt love... In this club... In this club... In this clu uh ub.
I took my position. Standing tall on the table height booth. Holding my Veuve Clicquot in my left hand and fist pumping with my other, I was surrounded by what felt like, if only for the night, friends and lovers. Lots of cheering. Lots of hysterical laughing. Everything I put down on my weekly vision board. (No, I'm serious.)
It meant the world to me to share the night with my artistic mates. We work hard to share a good show with thousands and thousands of people, 8 times a week. Dancing was mandatory. Love was needed. Bonding was the mission. The mission was completed.
I love you guys. Thanks for taking a peek into my "work-life". Take some time to Like, Comment and Share below. You know Miss. Michele comments (and claps) back. 💋