Tonight was the Christmas Party for the school's Music Department. Or was it for the whole district? I don't know. But there were a million people over at Doc's house tonight, and Cheryl (who works in the Music Department at the school) knew them all.
I knew a few.
The living room was full of food, the kitchen was full of food and people talking (very loudly), and for a while I stood by the front door (next to the pile of shoes) and opened it every time someone new arrived. Some thought I was the host, which was hilarious; others thought I was the hired doorman ("Tips?"). But I was just trying to stay out of the way and be helpful at the same time.
I keep forgetting what it is like to go to parties where people drink. (You know - drink.) It has been many years since I hung out at the frat house and watched people imbibe alcohol. It is supposed to be relaxing, I know. It is supposed to allow people to be themselves. But some people should not be themselves because deep down, apparently, they are not fun to be around. Or polite. Or friendly. And others get a bit too friendly. Not in a 'romantic' way, of course. Just embarrassing. Like a television sit-com cliché of a friendly drunk.
Apparently some people, when being themselves, are also very loud. Either that, or the sudden increase in the number of inhabitants of the house reached a point where it was impossible to maintain a normal conversation and everyone felt it necessary to dramatically increase the volume of their own speech until they could be heard. Which resulted in an incremental increase in the volume of all conversation in the room. Which resulted in me leaving the room before my ears exploded.
This particular night was also the night that two football games were going on at the same time. I don't remember the first one; the second involved the Seattle Seahawks, which, as former residents of Seattle, we are required by law to support throughout the end of our lives.
The game was being displayed on the big-screen television in the den, right past the kitchen. Which meant that there was loud conversation going on in the kitchen and loud conversation (about football) going on in the adjoining room.
My ears were ringing by the time we finally left. And my stomach was aching. So much good food. So much loud noise. So many nice people to meet, each with names I'd never remember.
I knew a few.
The living room was full of food, the kitchen was full of food and people talking (very loudly), and for a while I stood by the front door (next to the pile of shoes) and opened it every time someone new arrived. Some thought I was the host, which was hilarious; others thought I was the hired doorman ("Tips?"). But I was just trying to stay out of the way and be helpful at the same time.
I keep forgetting what it is like to go to parties where people drink. (You know - drink.) It has been many years since I hung out at the frat house and watched people imbibe alcohol. It is supposed to be relaxing, I know. It is supposed to allow people to be themselves. But some people should not be themselves because deep down, apparently, they are not fun to be around. Or polite. Or friendly. And others get a bit too friendly. Not in a 'romantic' way, of course. Just embarrassing. Like a television sit-com cliché of a friendly drunk.
Apparently some people, when being themselves, are also very loud. Either that, or the sudden increase in the number of inhabitants of the house reached a point where it was impossible to maintain a normal conversation and everyone felt it necessary to dramatically increase the volume of their own speech until they could be heard. Which resulted in an incremental increase in the volume of all conversation in the room. Which resulted in me leaving the room before my ears exploded.
This particular night was also the night that two football games were going on at the same time. I don't remember the first one; the second involved the Seattle Seahawks, which, as former residents of Seattle, we are required by law to support throughout the end of our lives.
The game was being displayed on the big-screen television in the den, right past the kitchen. Which meant that there was loud conversation going on in the kitchen and loud conversation (about football) going on in the adjoining room.
My ears were ringing by the time we finally left. And my stomach was aching. So much good food. So much loud noise. So many nice people to meet, each with names I'd never remember.