Riiiiing…….riiiing…..riiiing. I looked at my phone, “Jenna?”
“Aaah,” it quickly came back to me, she was one of the girls we promised to get into the party we weren’t invited to, perfect. I assured her everything was in order and we went back to the hotel with a lot of brainstorming to do.
After my meeting with Chevy Chase the night before, I kept asking myself, WWFD (What Would Fletch Do). We had three invites and nine people – the odds just seemed insurmountable. We considered a Kansas City Shuffle - too violent, Capri Sun – too sweet, Hit and Run – two outs, The French Kiss – our only option.
It was a risky move, but we were out of options, and we thought it might just be crazy enough to work. How does The French Kiss work you ask?
Well, we give some basic smooth talking an honest effort, and as soon as it looks like we might not get in, grab the hand of the hostess, act as if something has taken hold of you, look into her eyes, and give her the best French she’s ever had. It’s a real role of the dice, usually resulting in success or jail time, but it was New Years and we were in Aspen. We drew straws to determine who was to execute the plan – Happy was the lucky man.
The young vixens made their appearance at our condo around eight and there were libations for all as we greased up for the nine o’ clock Gondola ride. When it was time to take the short stroll to the bottom of the mountain, we did our best to mask our trepidation from Jenna and Jessica. The line seemed to be moving in a swift and efficient manner and we quickly ascended the stairs to the front. It wasn’t till we saw Jerry Springer get rejected that we knew we were in trouble.
“Randall Scott party of nine,” the boss said with authority.
Flipping a few pages back, the lady in the head set quickly shook her head, “I have you down for thr……”
“Check it Again,” said Randall with authority before she could finish her sentence.
“Sir,” scowled the lady, struggling to keep a civilized tone, “We have you down for three, I’m not going to argue with you.”
Grumbles began to surface behind us, and I thought I saw Niomi Campbell elbow someone in the nose. You could see the embarrassment growing on the faces of Jenna and Jessica. The lady with the headset said one word into a walky-talky and two Beefcakes in black Under Armor jumpsuits quickly approached us.
From the back Happy yelled to approaching bouncers, “Hey fellas, I like those shirts. Do they come in mens?”
Then it happened. Happy knocked me and Randall out of the way, grabbed the lady with the headset by elbows, everybody froze and silence swept through the crowd. Happy gave a small snarl as he worked the kinks out his neck, and then went in tongue first. The lady in the headset resisted as long as she could - which wasn’t long - and then a long, moist, delicate kiss ensued. For the next three seconds nothing could be heard but the grinding drone of the gondola. Eyes anxiously darted around awaiting a reaction, and I watched the bouncers like a hawk, as they seemed poised to strike at any second.
Just when I thought we were on the brink of mayhem, the crowd began to roar. Clapping, laughter, whistles, and yelps filled the air with a cacophony of elation. The lady in the headset fanned herself with the guest list as she ushered us onto a private gondola. Happy winked at her as the doors slid shut and proceeded to write his number in the frost that lightly swathed the plexiglas. Randall Scott had reminded Aspens’ elite what the true meaning of New Years is: celebration, tolerance, and kissing.
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