I should start off by telling you, I rarely go out. In fact, I usually spend my weekend nights in my apartment with my cats and a bag of pistachios. But a couple weeks ago, my friend Katy and I decided to switch things up. It was a long Holiday weekend and we weren’t just going to stay inside Valentine’s Day night just to eat chocolate covered strawberries and watch The Bachelor, (That’s what the day was for). We were determined to go out, meet new people, and make the best of this love-infested holiday. So, we went to a fancy bar at a boojie hotel in West Hollywood (as one does).

The night started off calm, too calm. There were couples everywhere, but what did we expect? It was 10:30pm on Valentine’s Day and the only social interaction going on in this bar was a Birthday party that we seemed to be crashing. Turned out to be a party for one of the women from the band, Tiny Huge City. It was cool, but we wanted more people. I mean, we were just kinda there, watching. We did sing Happy Birthday though, we’re not monsters.

After singing with a group of strangers, Katy and I sat on a couch, chatting about our nonexistent love lives. As we were jabbing away, a man came over and joined us. We said our hellos and began to chat. Then, in the middle of our conversation, he held up his glass to cheers us, and left. Just like that. I’m sorry Sir, when did cheersing (cheersing?) become an exit strategy. Whatever. Anyway, the night continued.

Around 11, these British people who came up to us and said hello. There were three of them, Elsa (The girl), Sal (The tall guy), and Cam (The other one). They all looked to be in their mid twenties. They were fun, plus one of the guys was wearing a leather jacket so he had to be cool. Anyway, we spent the whole night with them, chatting away. Finally, Katy asked why they were in LA, and this happened:

Sal: We’re here for the Grammy’s

Katy: Oh, are you going for a friend?

Sal: No, our band is nominated for an award.

Katy: Oh cool! What’s your band name?

Elsa: Coyote Megan

I’d never heard of them, but I of course Googled them later.

For the whole night, we talked to our new British friends about common interests, Europe, and rude people in LA. It was a foundation for a solid friendship.

We left that bar at 2am feeling good about the entire night. So good in fact, we thought we’d try it again the following night. And that’s just what we did


The next night looked much more promising. There were a quite a few good-looking fellows and a bunch of dressed up people (not for a birthday this time). We didn’t have any problems starting conversations. In fact, I think I’ve gotten quite good at chatting with a complete stranger.

Well, okay, let me clear something up. I’ve gotten good at starting conversations with complete strangers that I’m not attracted to. As for the handsome men, I really only made eye contact. In fact, one guy in particular was tall, blonde, and very cute. I say tall because he wasn’t just a little taller than me, he was “I can wear heels around him and still be shorter” taller than me. Ya feel?

But boy, did we talk to a lot of guys. There were these two French men in particular that hung out with us for quite a while. Yes, their cigarette smoke and pick-up lines made me gag, but one of them was a Pastry Chef and said he would bake me whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I almost married him.Almost.

But that wasn’t all. We also talked to a guy who showed us a hundred pics of his new baby, one who refused to tell us what he did for a living, and one who said he was going to get me a drink and then never came back. Should I send out a missing person’s report? Anyway, it was an ocean of men. We did so much socializing that before we knew it, it was already last call!

But just as we sent out an Uber request, a couple familiar faces appeared through the front door. It was our friends from Coyote Megan! They immediately came over to say hello and told us to cancel our Uber, then urged us to join them in their suite for a little after party instead of going to bed at a decent hour. Being it was already 2AM and we had to be up early, of course we stayed for the after party.

Up in the suite it was Katy, the four band members, a friend of theirs, a groupie wearing bunny ears (I’m not kidding), and myself. It was a pretty sweet suite. We all uncomfortably shuffled in (because we were in a new friend’s suite and didn’t have a clear idea of what to expect) and sat down.

Elsa made us some mixed drinks and we started chatting about the Grammy’s. Apparently they didn’t win, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure how to comfort somebody who just lost a Grammy.

As we all chatted, the groupie wearing bunny ears was laying on the couch taking selfies. Let’s just call her Bunny. We all watched as she did this for several minutes. At one point, Sal glanced at her and asked, “Why are you taking so many selfies?” Instead of answering, Bunny just giggled and said, “You say selfie funny. Like, SAHHHflie.” No one really knew how to respond to that, so we ignored it and moved on.

Conversation was running smoothly until we got on the topic of Las Vegas. Bunny asked the band when they were going to Vegas and Sal said sometime in the next month.

Bunny jumped, “Give me your number and I can invite you to some parties while you’re there!” and with absolutely no pause, Sal responded, “I don’t have a phone.”

Who doesn’t have a phone? Bunny pouted and went back to taking selfies.

Trying to move on from the rejection, I spoke up. “You guys should check out the Mirage while you’re there! They have tigers!”

They immediately looked at me in shock, as if I was holding up a poster of Hitler, suggesting they hang it above their bed. Then followed a mixture of:


“Oh my gosh that’s awful”

“That’s terrible, oh my god”

Thinking about it moments later, it was pretty awful. I guess I’ve been so busy hating Sea World that I totally forgot to hate Vegas hotels for having wild cats. I tried to make a joke and it kind of smoothed things out, but I’m sure they still think of me as Anti-Tiger Renee, Animal Abuse Enthusiast.

As it got later, Bunny got weirder. At one point she disappeared off to the bathroom for 20 minutes, and when we finally went to check on her, she was just scrolling through Instagram on the floor. Of the bathroom. By herself. We were a bit concerned but before we knew it, she was back in party mode. She told us all about the Playboy Mansion parties she’s been to, how she does acting as a hobby, and how her life goal is to be an Instagram model. She was quite a character.

Trying to get a Bunny break, I started up a conversation with Jake, the lead guitarist of Coyote Megan. He was funny and I think we clicked pretty well, but to be honest all I remember is seeing a wedding ring on his right hand and being confused. I mean, I wasn’t going to ask if he was married. Wait, that sounds bad. What I mean is…regardless of him being married or not, I wasn’t going to make a move.But I was just curious! It was like, a real wedding ring. You know? Looked like something right out ofJared’s. But it was on his right hand! Maybe kids these days wear wedding rings on the wrong hand to throw everyone off. Or maybe he just likes to wear rings.

Around 3:30 am, the party came to a close, mainly because Katy and I were about to fall asleep on their couch. Do people really stay up this late? We didn’t really know how to leave, considering it was a very intimate gathering. So we did the whole “stand up and yawn” thing.

Katy said, “We should go”, that infamous line. They looked up at us with blank expressions, as if not grasping the fact it was almost 4 am and I needed to get back to my cats. But after a few moments of silence, they nodded and got up for hugs. In the midst our goodbyes, we told them how nice it was meeting them and to have a safe flight back. All of that polite business.

We were going to ask for their phone numbers, but after what happened with Bunny, we decided against it. So we just left. And who knows if we will ever see them again? Regardless, it was a crazy night and it really just goes to show sometimes Katy and I aren’t 85 year old women.

So that was that!

We called an Uber (who ended up giving us 30 minutes of unwanted love/life advice), and went home.

DIARYRenee Ariel