Bottle Poppin' Etiquette

Recently I was at a club poppin' bottles. Now don't get the wrong idea, I'm really not the VIP, bottle poppin' type. Or maybe I am. I don't know, whatever. I usually only do it when I am with this one friend who likes to get tables. She liberates me to explore that flashier side of myself. On this evening however it was kind of necessary because the bottle you buy is the rent you pay to sit at the table and once the spot gets all crowded and funky you're sort of trapped there. I mean, if you surrender your table and go party with the hoi polloi it's just so depressing. Usually I'm with the hoi polloi because I AM the hoi polloi but like I said I was with my fabulous girlfriend who most definitely IS NOT part of the hoi polloi so I had to whip out the Amex cuz her bottle of Veuve Clicquot was done. And this is a recession so nobody is buying two bottles no matter how fly they are. 

Anyway once the bottle is bought it must be enjoyed so given it was a quite festive occasion to begin with I popped it open (she who pays, pops) and poured out four glasses for the party I was with. Then put the bottle back in the ice thingy and proceeded to participate in further revelry and picture taking and dancing and what not. 

I should probably mention this was a shared VIP area with one big table that accommodated about a dozen folks. Each little group had its own bottle, or so I thought.

Back to MY bottle of Moët Rosé. About 10 minutes later I returned to my bottle to refill our glasses. Do you know that thing was empty? Empty! Some bum drank a good quarter of my bottle. Finished it. Finished my bottle which they did not ask me for and which they did not pay me for, so clearly they didn't know whose champagne they were drinking, right? I really hate bottle/table freeloaders. I don't know you, you didn't chip in, do not drink my champagne! What the hale? 

So anyway I by this time had had a couple of cocktails and was not in the mood because really, in this recessionary environment we must all contribute. This is a team effort people! I thought it was insufferably rude that I should be affronted this way. I picked up the bottle and declared, perhaps too loudly...definitely too loudly, "Who drank my champagne? WHO FINISHED MY BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE?" I mean, even the people with whom I had shared would have waited or would have not finished it. So anyway this person whom I have never seen before tells me his wife did it. 

Mr. Freeloader: I'm sorry, it was my wife, she thought it was cool.

Me: In what universe would it be cool for her to finish my bottle without asking me? Do I know y'all?

Mr. Freeloader: Naw, we're so and so's friends.

Me: So? What difference does that make?

Mr. Freeloader: Look, I'm sorry, it's all good. I'll give you forty bux for it.

Me: Alright, that's cool. [heart rate starting to slow, claws and fangs retracting]

Mr. Freeloader: Here you go. [hands me a twenty]

Me: I thought you said forty?

Mr. Freeloader: Come on, be cool.

Me: Here take this ish back, I'm not that pressed. [heart rate back up, nostrils flaring]

The sad part about it is, I really just wanted more champagne because I love champagne. And that Moët Rosé is quite tasty. But I really didn't want to spend another 200 bux to get another taste. My mouth was all ready for that second glass of bubbly. You know how when you are thinking about eating last night's leftovers for dinner all day at work, and you know there is plenty left so no need to rush home, and you get there and some joker like ate the whole thing being greedy even though you were the one who cooked it and cleaned up after? And says something dumb when you look at the empty Tupperware crestfallen and heartbroken and just devastated. Like, "Aw man, did you want some? I shoulda saved you some huh. My bad. It was good too." And you just want to stab them in the eye? That's how I felt.

My friends and other guests in the VIP, trying to diffuse the situation because they sensed my righteous anger, descended upon me with additional cocktails. Somehow another glass of champagne found its way to my hand from a gracious gentleman who had witnessed the event and apparently saw the epic struggle between good and evil pass my brow. He rewarded me for my restraint with a glass of bubbly. Thanks, whoever you are...cuz for real I wanted to pop Mrs. Freeloader upside the head with that empty bottle. She could use an etiquette lesson with her rude a*%.