Fording Fiestas: Part Two!

Yesterday I began the tale of my biggest social night since St. Patrick's Day. As with my most recent summer camp account, it felt too big to be contained by a single post.Yesterday, I told of a birthday outing consisting of tacos and Iron Man 2. Today, the remainder of the story. After we got out of the movie at the theater down around Vermont and Sunset, I said goodbye, and sallied forth towards the second event of the night.

At this point, I was flying by the seat of my pants, and nothing was certain. I knew that technically the party should still being going, and probably would be even when I could get over there. I was in a fortuitous spot geographically, and so was the second party. I merely had to take five or so minutes to walk over to the subway station, wait about ten minutes for the train, travel on the train about another ten minutes, and then spend a final five or so minutes walking from the train's terminus to the party. The only point of stress was uncertainty of what I would find at the party. Would it be a whooping and hollering good time I'd encounter, or a just-wakened party host made angry by my arrival long after the guests had gone?

Happily, it was pretty much the former. Parties go through an evolutionary cycle, and this one was in the penultimate stage. It wasn't down to the loyal dregs who don't want to go home- there were still several more people than that. Moreover, the supply of food and drinks had not become so short as to be called dire. It was, to sum up, a still-healthy and vibrant party. Of course, I had not made any attempt to get a costume together, in spite of giving it thought every day since the invite came. I especially hadn't tried to do anything in the past 24 hours, as it seemed entirely possible that I would never make it. It was a good time. There was music, food and good conversation with old friends and new friends alike. I was even in the position of possibly leaving the party with more dignity and respect, since I was hours behind the drinking curve. I think I wound up drinking half a cup of wine, and a couple cups of soda.

I still felt totally expended by the time it was through. A very kind new friend dropped me off on his way home, and I drifted off to sleep while watching a recording of Letterman and drinking water to sooth my throat. The following morning I felt sure that I was living Kafka's Metamorphosis, with frog in place of cockroach. More water answered that, but was in all likelihood undermined by being succeeded by my usual coffee and breakfast bars. Such was my biggest party night since St Patrick's Day.

Tomorrow: something else!