“Olmac would be pleased with this party.” – JB
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG. I jumped up from the couch and ran to the door. JB stood there excited. “TAMAGOTCHI, LEGENDS OF THE HIDDEN TEMPLE, SNAP BRACELETS,” JB shouted at me as I opened the door. The thought crossed my mind immediately; time travel paradox on a boat. “The 90’s live again?” I asked cringing. “Fame Lust is hosting a party on the Moshulu, you’ve got one week to 90’s up, ” he barked leaving as abruptly as he showed up. Memories from the 90’s swirled, bouncing off dead brain cells; Jonathan Taylor Thomas hair cuts, flannels used to keep hips warm, say bye-bye-bye, cut all the hair, get frosted tips, gold hoop earrings, flannels traded for sweater vests. Fame Lust lifted the lid on Pandora’s Box. Quailman wouldn’t be pleased.
A week elapsed; Jayne Doe and JB bounced off the walls with ideas. FANNY PACKS, INDESTRUCTIBLE NOKIA PHONES, SHAGGY, COOLIO. They fired faster than I could dodge. I quietly stared, then carefully reached into my pocket for my bandana. I equipped it Tupac style and uttered the two powerful words, “California Love.” JB and Jayne took a moment of silence nodding in approval. Someone had to remember the best decade in hip-hop. Cheetah print and heels, Jayne transformed into Peg Bundy, while JB captured the silver monkey. A short cab ride later we arrived at the Moshulu Boat. “HELL YEAH, ORANGE IGUANAS RULE!” shouted JB as he threw money at the cabbie. The man stared blankly, then gave him a thumbs up. I wanted to remind JB that he forgot his aqua shoes, but it was more important we boarded the ship. I clenched the railing tight ready to return to the 1990’s; Windbreakers and denim jackets would be in high style.
At the top of walkway we were halted by two men and a sequined luchador; standard procedure. “Five dollars each ladies and gentlemen,” smiled the door keep. We handed over our money in exchange for a trip the past. The masked wrestler waved us in and flexed. “Drinks or dance floor?” asked Jayne. “BEERS NOW,” blurted out JB. Tunnel vision prevailed. All beers were $3 dollars including Pabst; quick mathematical computation determined it was going to be an expensive night. We’d been spoiled by places like The Barbary or Morgan’s Pier where $2 PBR ruled all. I prepared my finest gangsta lean and set out towards the dance floor.
The 90’s would be before us again. My eyes adjusted to the lasers and lights. What was this deception and dupery? It sounded like 1997 but looked like a suburban wedding reception. Yuppies filled the dance floor grinning and convulsing. It was a flood of button ups and short dresses; Express just had it’s annual clearance sale. I spun around, Jayne and JB had the same look of puzzlement and contempt. “We need more beers, NOW,” groaned JB. We returned to the bar for an extra drink, it was going to be a long night.
As I waited for the bartender I was pleased no one had yelled about being on a boat; recreated scenes from Titanic would be encouraging though. I got my extra beer and went to starboard deck. The view was magnificent. As I took a sip the thought crossed my mind to abandon ship. Jack Sparrow walked by and nodded at my bandana use. I returned the head nod as he bobbled by stumbling drunk, dreads and jewelry flowing everywhere. “Fucking Jack Sparrow!” I yelled out loud. It was the 1990’s not 1790s you fool! I turned to tell JB, but he had already gone missing. Suddenly, N’Sync came on. The boat shook as girls erupted in high pitched shrieks of delight. Drinks flew in the air, some at the bar, there was no time for drinking! I was pushed, shoved, kicked, and dragged as girls rampaged to the dance floor. The collective female voice sang every word…”I’m doing this tonight…You’re probably gonna start a fight…”
A blinding flash blanketed the crowd. Fame Lust came sliding down the top of a large vent like a ninja acrotographer. Cheers and shouts rang out as he performed his paparazzi performance. Men and women gleamed for the camera, yearning for their 15 seconds of fame. Dazed and overloaded, smiles took over everyone’s faces as they clapped, cheered and sang. High above DJ Deejay spun directly into Britney Spears; girls became unraveled. More screams rang out. He bounced back and forth, waving to the crowd. Fame Lust continued snapping photos, capturing the energy and essence that a 90’s party should be. As the sting from my eyes wore off I saw neon windbreakers, denim vests, Blossom hats, and faded graphic t-shirts filling gaps in the crowd. Saved by the bell was in full swing and the night, though fashionably late, had been restored. The party maintained that same high level energy, making for a rad 90’s type of night.
The bottom line:
Take your 90’s lingo and costume as far as it will go! Have some fun, get creative! As said by JB, “the most unfortunate part of the night is that those dressed in boring modern clothes were not made to walk the plank, despite it being on a pirate ship.” The party was a ton of fun, dressed up or not. DJ deejay and Fame Lust make a combo that’s hard to beat. Honorable mentions: At one point, DJ took a live song request right from the Facebook event page! If you missed out, be sure to get on board next time.
Special thanks to Fame Lust for letting us use some of his terrific work!