The Barbeque Strikes Back

It ought to surprise no one that the last party I wrote about did not mark my retirement from the social scene. Nor, for that matter, was it the last that I would choose to write about. Barely twenty-four hours later, there was still another one of such a kind that I never imagined only a short time ago I'd be welcome at. Please, if you would, indulge me once again. It's a bit shorter altogether, but comes in one long installment since it doesn't split up easily.

Actually, I had gotten a ride from church to the party. I previously wrote about an epic public transportation journey to church, and resolved that this time it would not be so interesting, no matter the cost to this blog. I had, prior to that, always taken the subway down, walking seven tenths of a mile from the station to the service. I did so again, and it mostly proved to not sir up my passions prematurely. Any intrigue was of a very mundane nature of no interest to anyone but myself.

The church service itself was good. I was a bit distracted by my contact lenses, as is sometimes the case, but derived great enjoyment from the musical act and from the sermon which followed. We had a guest preacher, and I would say that he had great effect not just by virtue of having a good command of scripture or by being a good public speaker, but by being someone other than the usual guy. It's a little like when a pitcher throws a change-up.

Now it was time for the party. I hadn't spoken to anyone about going with them, so now was when I had to start operating towards the end of securing a ride. This was the risky part of the plan I had settled on when considering which of two events to go to. One conflicted with church, but was going to be much easier for me to get to. I resolved to take my chances with the other, and now here was where the hard part came in. I did contemplate making my way on my own, as it did seem that I might get there before it was too late on public transportation, but determined to spare no effort to do better than that.

A ride was found, and the hardest part seemed to be all getting on the same page as far as where the party was and how to get there. My ride and I headed off, seemingly at about the same time as everyone else. We did not stop or slow down along the way, and took no more than a reasonable amount of time to find street parking then identify the exact house where the party was. We had been warned that the number could not be seen, but the house was described to us, and I figured that we ought to be able to spot the party going on from the street. So it was indeed.

That place was just absolutely packed full of people. I made a beeline for the refreshments, and had a hard time of pouring a drink and getting a hot dog and cheeseburger without spilling something as a result of the congestion. I truly began to lose it in such close quarters, and found incredibly sweet relief when I could stride outside and sit by myself for a minute with my food. Call me anti-social if you will, but I just was desperate to stretch my arms and breath.

I adjusted well enough, and spend a minimum amount of time off on my own watching people talk and not knowing how to get into it. Heroic friends prodded me into action when I badly needed it. I managed to get into a few conversations on my own, and found one or two people who seemed to enjoy my company. There were others who even I'm not so socially inept as to fail to notice didn't enjoy my company quite as much, but I suppose one must risk his feelings if he is to really live.

One thing I can be sure of is that any missteps I was guilty of could not be traced to drink. All I had to wash down the numerous hot dogs and hamburgers I ate was lemonade. Straight lemonade, I hasten to add- there was nothing hard about it, and to my knowledge nothing was contributed to help it along. There certainly was plenty of food, although it seemed eminently possible at the party's outset that this might not be the case.

My ride and I headed out at a respectable time. The peak of the party had come and gone, but it had not sunk to its nadir just yet, and so no one could have thought any less of us for having stayed so long, the host included. That's important to me. No matter what else happens, my chief priority is not to be the last guest at the party who is having a good time and then gets caught unawares by a glowering host whose arms are folded and wants to know what the plan is.

We went home easily and peacefully, talking all the while. Of course, it would not have been a social occasion for me if I did not at any time need to be chastened for speaking too loudly, and so it happened after 1am as we walked to the car past the home of decent, probably sleeping people. I did better after that, and settled in at home by 2. Of course, I wasn't ready for bed.

I still had plenty of energy, and decided now was the perfect time to sit down and watch Marlon Brando in "The Wild One" as I had long intended. My limit came as the credits rolled, and I regretfully conceded that "Baby Face" starring Barbara Stanwyck would have to wait for another day. So ended my Sunday.