Having spent most party events trying to avoid any confrontations
or blank stares, I figure I should stop once in a while to enjoy a few. Such as
the last party I attended for my work event on the 15th.
I had set out my green tux T-Shirt, with my white/green
relax jacket, to better facilitate the oddness one could muster up while out on
the hunt for potential girls to pick up.
Being the fool to rush in, I had spent my time shaving the
wolverine sideburns I was rockin, and power showered off the grim from work
that day. However, this wasn’t necessary as I found out as I was the first to
arrive to the party.
The location for our party was held in a grand establishment,
and was the first real major party that I felt I didn’t fit in, due to the fancy
service and rows of round tables draped in silky materials stood far beyond my
current attire.
Spend the first 30 minutes walking around the empty room in
slight embarrassment for my earliness, while trying to look for the best table to
escape to the exit doorway, if need be escape is required.
Finally, after 50 minutes of drinking from my water wine
glass, several party goers were starting
to file in, as well as the waiters, host and Dj.
80% of the people there weren’t part of my work group, as
most were much higher ups within the company, leaving my 20 year self to deal
with 60+ year older drunk folk trying to regain that youthful vigor they once
had.
The Dj was basically the butler from The Haunted House.
Since I knew I wouldn’t meet these people again, I decided
to fuck around by going around tables and saying “Hey Grandma/Grandpa! It’s me
your nephew.” And when they wouldn’t recognize me, I would declare “Man, that Alzheimer
is really getting to you.” I stopped around table 3 when I found out the person
I spoke to really did have Alzheimer (or at least I felt his mannerism mimicked
of that.).
Even though I could have lied, or bribed, I held off that
feeling to indulge in alcoholic beverages, seeing as my 20 year old self was
patient enough to wait one more year.
Apparently one of the co-workers kept buying drinks for this
one woman, and kept telling the waiter that “It’s from Mr.GreenToS ” So got
strange looks from her throughout the evening.
The table I sat at had two bartenders, one dressed as an elf
while the other madly deep within her drink. The rest of group held a varied unknown
older folk. One such drunk kept tripping over the x-mas tree lights.
The banquet served several high end salads, desserts and other
extravagant words I couldn’t congregate up to try out. However, due to my junk
food taste buds, everything looked like shit to me and felt like I was going to
sit it out hungry till I notice the Chief. The Head Chief made anyone who stopped
by his private spot a chicken and waffle combo, Spazzing out as he spilled his
cherry goo all over your plate).
Feeling like I shouldn’t look too anomalous for only getting
one item, I quickly nabbed a dessert chocolate shot, with cherry cream on top (urgh!).
Yet I choked on the overly tart slime and proceeded to let it dribbled enough out
to warrant a “cum face” of discussion from others.
Fuck!
Eventually the rest of my co-workers showed up, and wasted
no time getting smashed behind the bar. The Establishment’s staff kept trying
to tell then them “they couldn’t make any flaming Dr. Peppers” while avoiding
the spills of countless glasses being toppled over the counter.
At one point, there was this creepy child molester looking
70 year old bloke, seriously wearing striped child play shirt, who kept
sneaking several sessions of making out with several co-workers. The only
redeeming thing I could bring about him was his amazing skills of being able to
sit down and back up in one motion.
I started to get jaded, as any designated driver would undergo,
and stirred my eyes up to witness the first old couple to dance on the dance
floor. I started to write a script about them in my mind, as if this dance was
the ending to their own film. Leading me to shoot a director’s cut of the dance
with their son running in and declaring their daughter was pregnant with the
gardener’s son.
Saw a female Version of Bill Hader.
After a few murmurs of the dance floor being bare empty, the
first karaoke song was brought out, total eclipse of my heart, came on. Then
without warring, I started to do the most sporadic dance around my table. (From
the flopping arms out as wings, and jumping around my chair and table as a maniac,
while mouthing out the lyrics to the song.)
Unlike most people, I can start dancing whenever I feel like
it, unlike the majority of those sitting and trying to avoid getting the
spotlight on them.
Once the song was over, I of course earn yet another “THIS
IS GONNA GO ON YOUTUBE!!” shout out. Which I heard enough in life to not care
about, but I would wish at least someone would send me a link or two of those outta
nowhere dancing bouts over my years in existence.
I guess the sight of an underage guy doing such a bizarre
dance sober was too much for some of the older generation, and so a majority of
them left soon after that.
Ultimately I would go out on the dance floor to dance whenever
singers would bravely go up, which lead to my duet and dancing with my boss,
singing “This is Fuckin Awesome!”. (Which would be more of an understatement in
that moment for me, as I felt the crowd was far below interested in our zany
actions, but nonetheless my boss felt otherwise.)
Then everyone else remaining kept using the fire exit to
smoke, leading to security bursting in and yell at them for setting off the
alarm soo many times.
Feeling apologetic for witnessing the inebriated partiers
act towards some of the wait staff, I decided to step in and act proper to the maître
d'hôtel. By giving complements of how groovy they are and telling fake stories
about my horrible love life. (Such as the time I ripped the last condom I had on
me by accident, or vomiting all over my prom date.)None of which was true but even
so it did make the entire staff laugh till they cried.
Then Sang “I Ran” by A flock of Seagulls near the end of the
night, but was moderately dreadful at it. I know I’m at least decent at
dancing, well not remarkable but enough to cause flavorless people to want me
to teach them, but horrible at singing at together.
Then rest was a blur of hugs and goodbyes as I left back
home.
Would have posted this sooner, if it weren’t for my self-wanting
needs to do things outside my pc life, such as reading my ever growing novella collection,
or maintaining my sanity as countless cousins visit over the holidays.
