The Golden Girls?

Kiki has been back from Denmark for a while now and after a mediocre surprise birthday party it was time Kiki hit the scene once more.

So without further ado it was decided that it was off to ** ****** (name removed due to censorship and peer pressure), the Chez Lui venue in old downtown Cairo once more.

Being a working mama, and slaving in the office till after working hours, I was late while Kiki on the other hand went home for her beauty sleep.

And before I know it, everyone was gathered at the old/new tavern, drinking and being merry, more of being mary, while I was still at home trying to look fresh and irresistibly stunning, to little or no effect.

Just a little after midnight I was pushing the door of the new ole tavern, inundated with smoke and saluted by a male prostitute, I knew I was in the right place.

Rightly fearing that the State Security Police will raid this renovated, overbearing space of contrived sophistication, I made my way to Kiki's table, and whom do I find, but the original crew of the Golden Girls!

(The original crew of the Golden Girls (2001-2005), comprised of me, Kiki, Rica Lopez, Engineer Shahira and a whole cast of minor characters that made unmemorable appearances every now and then. The Golden Girls crew should not be confused with the Madonna Alliance (2006-2009) which comprised of me, Kiki, Bad G, Fat Ray and the Evil Diva. Unfortunately both groups were irrecoverably dissolved, of course except me and Kiki, and are no longer in existence).

So here I was with my old girl Rica, and the sly Shahira, exchanging news, stories, malicious gossip about other queens and reliving all those awkward, blissful moments of yore.

Over tequila shots, deafening sirens of obscene laughter and halos of smoke, we drank to our glorious past and celebrated the serendipitous present that somehow destined us to meet again, in this snug, little tavern, in old Cairo.

Forgotten were all the animosity and the sad memories, we are big girls now and as a dear friend told me, the older you get the quieter the drama, it becomes so quiet, its almost a subtle reference or an undercurrent of everyday life.

You are no longer able to do the hysterics and the acrobatics of adolescence anymore. This is mature drama now, and while grand in entrance and appearance, its toned and rehearsed.

And as I stood there among old friends, new ones, and took in the smoke, the alcohol and the bitter taste of loss and thrill of being reunited with beloved ones, and looked around, friends turned enemies, erstwhile lovers, how much emotion can one queen take?