Long, long ago, back when I first arrived in town and didn't know the best back roads or that Holeman & Finch serves amazing burgers (but only 24 and only after 10 p.m.), my still-growing friend group told me that I had to go to Cheers for Children the next May. The event supports Children's Healthcare of Atlanta, a network of children's hospitals, and brings out the twenty-to-thirty-somethings of Atlanta for a fancy night of mixing and mingling.
So next May finally arrived. I had a secret route to work, I had made the pilgrimage to H&F, and I had bought a ticket to CfC.
When the evening of the event finally arrived, I pulled an old staple out of the back of my closet (I long ago said ciao ciao to the LBD), gave my hair a good fluff, applied an extra coat of mascara, and skipped through the rain towards Melly's house with an umbrella over me and a pair of pumps in my hand. The boys and girls were all meeting up to go to the ball together!
The gentlemen looked extra dapper tonight. A few of them in their finest:
The ladies looked like [insert tropical candy name here].
First things first: pre-event light snacks and wine. And by light snacks and wine, I mean mouthfuls of some wicked baked Gouda concoction that turned us all from ladies and gents into full on heathens, spooning melty cheese covered in caramelized brown sugar and wrapped in a flaky dough into our mouths will little regard for social graces.
But then, the rain stopped and we all turned back into adults and followed one another, like ducklings, outside to wait for our Uber ride to swoop in for us.
My candid skills certainly leave something to be desired.
When the giant suburban arrived, we all piled in for the ride. The boys graciously took the back so that the ladies could gracefully slide into a seat. Don't you just love those southern gentlemen?
Stacie and I felt like we were five again, looking back over the giant seat.
A few songs later, we arrived at the W Hotel in Midtown, where the event was begin hosted.
Attendees crowded in the lobby nibbling on shrimp and commenced cheering the children until the doors opened for the main event. As we walked in, the boys couldn't resist christening the dance floor.
Melissa watched (and judged?).
Chris, sad Whitney wasn't able to come, ate his feelings...
...until Duke threw him the ol' "what are the odds" that resulted in both of them tackling the still-empty dance floor.
As they got closer, they skillfully planned their attack...
...and attack they did. In all of their (well, Duke's) sockless glory.
How lovely is a boy who doesn't take himself too seriously?
The event includes a fairly substantial silent auction where you can big on prizes that include VIP tickets to concerts, professional league signed balls, workout packages, and my favorite, a year's worth of Chick-Fil-A. At some point, my name mysteriously showed up on that bidding sheet; thankfully, I didn't win. A few of my friends did take prizes home, though, and were silently cursing but also pleased with themselves the next morning.
The event was a fun excuse to get dressed up with some of my favorites and act only slightly classier than we really are. I was a bit of a bore and excused myself early to get some sleep - I'm recovering from a cold and wanted to be sure I was in top shape to work at church the next morning - but I've already marked my calendar for next year. If you're in Atlanta, you really must come!
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