As if they’d rehearsed to make Jane feel as though she were back in the ’90s, Jen and Marissa brought their old-school drama to the evening — some hilarious, some horrifying, all of it sworn to secrecy. Everyone danced until the wee hours, passing out sometime after fries were ordered from room service at 3 a.m.
After the leftover fries had gone cold and the sun had come up, Jane shook off her grogginess and donned the goofy pair of oh-so-Lady-Gaga novelty rock-star glasses I’d given her (each eye peers through the center of a guitar). We checked out and caravanned to the Tractor Room in Hillcrest for breakfast. I was halfway through my lemon-lavender mimosa when I noticed Jane was flashing another new accessory. “Are those the beads from the table?” I asked.
“Sure are,” Jane said, and proudly held up one of the glittering medallions that broadcast her age.