Last Friday, after seeing Sleep No More (more on that later), I was invited to crash a party.

Does that make sense? We were definitely crashers because we didn’t know the birthday guy, but it was clear no one minded.

It was a Turkish birthday party. This means a few things.

First, the food was awesome, including the enormous birthday cake and curiously strong “Turkish martinis” that we swore were just Cosmos but which subsequently kicked our a$$es.

Second, as women, we were treated really, really well. Served first, refilled first, etc.

Third, and perhaps most importantly, there was a belly dancer. She was awesome. Yes, those candles on her head were lit.

Don’t worry – the on-the-giant-table part came after we finished eating.

Turkish custom seems to call for the men to fire off stacks of one dollar bills at the dancer like an out of control bill counting machine.

With the dancer’s encouragement, we danced with her, quickly realizing what a great workout belly dancing is. I turned to Yelp subsequently. Maybe I have a new career in my future.

(No, I don’t.)