Cinderella came and went

We went to a ball. My husband and I were invited, on behalf of the ginormous oil company that he works for, to the Vizcayan Ball. This is an annual event held in Miami and when I mentioned it to people, it was always met with wide eyes and "WOW". So I expected a lot, and it delivered. HOWEVER. The night took a turn for the worse and I found my own mouth agape a few hours in.

First, I had heard that this was a charity event and the price per couple was $10,000 minimum. There was also a silent auction where they auctioned off ridiculous stuff that only ridiculous people like (Cartier watches, furs etc.). The cheapest item finally went for $500 (a Maserati power wheels) and I saw that a trip to Egypt was going for $18,000 with hours left to go.

The people at the party were the elite of Miami society. Wealthy beyond my comprehension. They pulled up in cars I could only dream of touching. Their dresses were couture and the diamonds flowed all over their bodies. We were greeted with a red carpet, champagne and photo ops then escorted to the veranda where staff passed around hors d'oeuvres and your glass was never empty.

I was directed to an ice bar where my plate was prepared with lobster tails, shrimp, stone crab claws and the most delicious sauces I'd ever had. Me, being stupid, assumed it was a seafood themed dinner party or something so I went back many times to fill up the plate and ate more lobster and shrimp than you could imagine. Whoops, those were just appetizers.

A man dressed in white announced that the dining area was now open and we were escorted around the corner to the water front where large tables covered with towering centerpieces awaited us. Our menu instructed us that this was going to be a 4 course dinner. I was already full from my seafood bounty, but I ate anyway. I was on my third course (after the risotto) when the music stopped, they started giving speeches and what not. This is where my perfect evening came crashing down around me.

They started honoring a woman named Cindy Carr. This lady had been on "the board" for 30 years and blah blah she's great, blah blah we love her...lets give her a round of applause and a token of our appreciation. They walk up the stairs to a spotlit woman who has had more plastic surgery done than I have ever seen. Her tokens? A trophy looking thing, flowers, and a framed 11x17 photograph of ...herself. Herself?

Check her out here, 3rd row far right and last row middle

Anyway....the speaker then goes on to mention how thankful they are for the donors, for the contributors, for the silent auction winners blah blah...because ALL this wealth of money goes to The Vizcayans. Huh? I almost spit my drink out. I looked at my husband and said, probably too loudly, you mean to tell me this fundraiser is for themselves????!!!!???

Vizcaya (where this party was at) is an old mansion that is gorgeous but needs constant upkeep. So in order to pay for the grounds crew and electrical bill, they have to raise money.

I watched in horror as my third course was taken from me and scraped into the garbage pile along with all the other food that the women refused to eat out of vanity. 10oz filet mignons, SLAM, into the trash can. Just down the street, not more than 300 yards, there are homeless cuban and haitian men/women/children starving.

I was ashamed to be at this event. These people were giving money to support extravagance. They gave cash so they could make sure to keep up a location to have their galas and private party events. They sat smugly in their seats, patting themselves on the back and I wanted to punch them all in the face. Then the fireworks started...not metaphorical fireworks...real freaking fireworks. They paid money to blow stuff up for their own amusement.

After the forth and final course came and went, I told my husband I wanted to leave, and we did. I was so naive I suppose. I truly thought that the charitable event meant that the money was going to CHARITY, maybe to the parks department to build new parks for children, or to support the homeless downtown. Not to keep their own elite playground up and running. We walked through the garden room, picked up our swag, out the front door, back down the red carpet and waited for one of the 30 valets to grab our car.

As we drove home, I just stared out the window. I can pull off the high society role but if our future involves enduring this type of crap, I don't know if I can hang. My husband may have to go to make an appearance but I think I'll stay home out of principle.