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<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\nLa Casa de Fiesta: The House of Fun?<\/strong><\/p>\n La Casa de Fiesta, Millinocket, Maine\u2014”The House of Fun”? Really, Wes, what were you thinking? Back in the heyday of La Casa de Fiesta, a venue that surely has left many with stories of their own, PartyDancersUSA found itself drawn into the fold. The year was 2001 or maybe 2002, and it was all thanks to the smooth-talking charm of the club\u2019s owner, Wes\u2014a man who could be likened to a smiling snake, promising us the chance to put the club back on its feet once again. The opportunity seemed ripe, but as we would soon discover, La Casa de Fiesta was anything but a simple gig.<\/p>\n The Expanding Commitment at La Casa de Fiesta<\/strong><\/p>\n PartyDancersUSA initially agreed to supply La Casa de Fiesta with 6 to 8 dancers every Friday and Saturday night for an entire year, no breaks. It seemed like a solid plan\u2014a manageable commitment with plenty of time to prepare and deliver quality performances. However, it didn\u2019t take long for that old smiling snake, Wes, to work his charm. Before we knew it, PartyDancersUSA was on the hook for more than just weekends.<\/p>\n Wes had succeeded in convincing us to extend our presence from Tuesday through Saturday every week. Smaller crews were scheduled during the week, with larger, more dynamic teams taking over on weekends. What started as a straightforward agreement quickly ballooned into a full-blown, five-night-a-week commitment. “Oh boy,” I thought, as the reality of the situation set in. The challenge had just grown exponentially, and La Casa de Fiesta was about to become a central focus for our team.<\/p>\n The Reality of La Casa de Fiesta<\/strong><\/p>\n It can be said with all honesty that La Casa de Fiesta was definitely not “The House of Fun.” Anyone who\u2019s spent up to five days a week making the two-hour trek there, then enduring eight hours at the club until 1 a.m., only to face another two-hour drive back home, knows that\u2019s no definition of fun. The sheer monotony of sitting in that club night after night could drive anyone to the brink, and avoiding the temptation to become a raging alcoholic out of pure boredom was an achievement in itself.<\/p>\n But despite the grueling schedule and the less-than-glamorous atmosphere, PartyDancersUSA fulfilled this commitment with flying colors. We survived the entire year, navigating the ups and downs with Wes, Junior, Baby Junior, and the entire cast of circus characters that surrounded La Casa de Fiesta. This was no small feat<\/em>, let me tell you! It was a test of endurance, patience, and professionalism, and we came out the other side stronger for it.<\/p>\n A Tuesday Night at La Casa de Fiesta<\/strong><\/p>\n It was late April, a Tuesday night, and as dead as you\u2019d expect in Dolby Plantation. PartyDancersUSA had four dancers on the roster that evening, including our senior dancer, Raine. The excitement was so palpable\u2014or rather, the lack thereof\u2014that I found myself dozing off at a table near the entry, only to be jolted awake around 10 p.m. by Raine.<\/p>\n She wasn\u2019t waking me up for nothing. “Money Mike” had just walked into the club, and with him came his entourage\u2014an interesting mix to say the least. Among them was “Cocaine Mike,” a known drug dealer, and an ex-dancer from Millinocket who wasn\u2019t just battling a bad attitude but also struggling with alcohol and drug problems. The ex-dancer wasn\u2019t supposed to be in the club at all, especially not on a slow Tuesday night in April, when tensions were already high from the lack of action.<\/p>\n To make matters worse, this ex-dancer was hanging all over “Money Mike,” effectively cock-blocking\u2014something the dancers nicknamed him for because he\u2019d often come in on Tuesdays, drink, and throw money around. But tonight, with this ex-dancer clinging to him, Raine and the others were being cut off from the only potential big spender in the place. It was shaping up to be a night full of frustration, with the only lucrative opportunity in town slipping away right before our eyes.<\/p>\n Tensions Rise<\/strong><\/p>\n Still groggy from my impromptu nap, I barely had time to gather my thoughts before Raine stormed over, loudly venting her frustrations. \u201cWhy is that bitch in here?\u201d she fumed, \u201cNo one can get near Money Mike because of her!\u201d It wasn\u2019t exactly the most pleasant wake-up call, especially when I was already trying my hardest not to fall into the trap of drinking the night away\u2014something that felt increasingly tempting in this line of work (and let\u2019s not forget all those drinks I ended up paying for, courtesy of Wes, wherever he is now).<\/p>\n As Raine\u2019s complaints rang in my ears, I waved her off, buying myself a minute to sort this mess out in my head. The situation was spiraling, and I knew I had to handle it carefully. The last thing we needed was for things to escalate further, but with tensions high and Money Mike being monopolized by the ex-dancer, it was clear that something needed to be done\u2014and fast.<\/p>\n Confrontation in the Club<\/strong><\/p>\n Still unsure of how to handle the situation, I decided to at least look like I was taking action. Getting up and moving around seemed like a good start\u2014if nothing else, it might give Raine the impression that I was working on it and buy me a few minutes of peace. I headed toward the DJ control room, but I didn\u2019t make it far. Raine, clearly not done venting, cut me off directly in front of the DJ window, her complaints now reaching a fever pitch. It was more of the same\u2014gripes about the ex-dancer, and to be honest, it was all starting to sound like blah, blah, blah in my exhausted mind.<\/p>\n Just as I was trying to piece together a coherent response, \u201cMiss America\u201d\u2014the ex-dancer herself\u2014decided to stroll right between us. Without missing a beat, she dropped a verbal bomb, calling Raine a \u201cc* * *,\u201d as if she could just toss out the insult and keep walking like nothing happened.<\/p>\n The air between them crackled with tension. Whatever plans I had for de-escalation were about to be tested in a very real way.<\/p>\n The Moment of Decision<\/strong><\/p>\n Raine\u2019s head snapped around so fast I thought she might give herself whiplash. Her face flushed a deep red, and her eyes seemed to go almost white with fury. \u201cCan I beat her ass? No, I\u2019m gonna beat her ass for that,\u201d she declared, her voice seething with anger.<\/p>\n In that split second, I weighed my options and realized there was no holding her back. The situation had reached a boiling point, and trying to intervene might have only made things worse. So, I simply nodded, giving her the unspoken green light. I stepped back, knowing that sometimes, the only way to defuse a situation like this was to let it run its course.<\/p>\n What happened next was inevitable, and I braced myself for the fallout.<\/p>\n Raine Takes Action<\/strong><\/p>\n Like a bullet, Raine shot forward in a straight line, not pausing for a second. In her 8-inch platform heels, she power strutted toward “Miss America” with a determined focus that didn\u2019t waver for a moment. Despite the precarious footwear, Raine\u2014a petite 5’3″, 105-pound Cherokee Indian\u2014was a force of nature.<\/p>\n Without even removing her heels, Raine unleashed a barrage of fury, quickly overpowering “Miss America” and beating her into submission. The scene was intense, with Raine\u2019s small frame delivering a level of strength and determination that belied her size.<\/p>\n Once she had the ex-dancer subdued, Raine didn\u2019t stop there. She grabbed her by the shirt collar and the belt of her pants, hauling her like a rag doll toward the front door. With one final push, Raine threw her out into the night, punctuating her actions with a clear message: “YOU\u2019RE OUTTA HERE!”<\/p>\n A New Threat Emerges<\/strong><\/p>\n I stood there, completely in awe, watching as Raine single-handedly dealt with “Miss America.” The whole scene was playing out like a surreal action movie, and I was so engrossed that I hadn\u2019t noticed another set of eyes also tracking Raine\u2019s every move\u2014”Cocaine Mike.”<\/p>\n As Raine power-marched past me with her defeated opponent in tow, almost at the front door, something caught my eye. Out of nowhere, I saw this huge guy\u2014Cocaine Mike\u2014charging toward Raine at full speed, his shoulder lowered like a battering ram. It was clear as day: he was going to take her out, and he was just moments away from impact.<\/p>\n My heart skipped a beat as I realized the imminent danger. Everything seemed to slow down as I processed what was about to happen, but there was no time to think\u2014only time to react.<\/p>\n Taking Down Cocaine Mike<\/strong><\/p>\n In that split second, instinct took over. Without a moment\u2019s hesitation, I launched myself into action, delivering a full-force hockey check that sent “Cocaine Mike” crashing into the wall. The impact was solid, but Mike wasn\u2019t done yet. He swung around with an elbow, catching me just below the left eye and leaving a painful, swelling egg as a reminder.<\/p>\n That didn\u2019t sit well with me. Using the momentum from his elbow strike, I pivoted and took him down hard, flipping him backward onto the floor. With Mike now on his back, I had the upper hand. Fueled by adrenaline, I started giving him a taste of his own medicine, each punch landing with the kind of precision that only comes when you’re in the heat of the moment. “Mike” was now getting his own knuckle tattoo, courtesy of PartyDancersUSA.<\/p>\n The Aftermath<\/strong><\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t until later that I learned “Cocaine Mike” was not just some random tough guy\u2014he was the local “connection,” and, at that time, the reigning bar brawl titleholder on the Millinocket bar circuit. Apparently, everyone knew who he was, but no one had thought to tell me. Not that it would have mattered.<\/p>\n Truthfully, I wouldn\u2019t have cared who he was or what reputation he had. For me, it\u2019s simple: if you make any attempt to injure one of my dancers, you\u2019re done. Toast. No exceptions. My priorities were clear\u2014protecting the team comes first, no matter who\u2019s on the other side. It\u2019s a cut-and-dry rule, and that night, “Cocaine Mike” learned it the hard way.<\/p>\n<\/p>\nTUESDAY TAKEOUT DESCRIBES AN ALTERCATION AT CLUB LA CASA<\/h2>\n
<\/a><\/p>\nI DIDN’T REALIZE WHAT WAS ON THE MENU FOR TUESDAY TAKEOUT<\/h3>\n