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By Darren Kaminsky
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Darren Kaminsky's novel, Sugar Spun Sisters, appears in serialized form every Monday right here on Me Three. The story follows the lives of five twenty-somethings living in Washington D.C. As far as the editors are currently aware, none of these characters work in politics.
Chapter Twenty-Two
July 1st AM
A good party is not bound by the usual laws of behavior or, for that matter, physics. Time elongates and becomes non-linear. In my memory, the laughing, come-ons, french kissing, goofing around, drinking of shots, strange propositions, awkward feel-ings, sudden pukings, warbly sing-a-longs, and the out-of-nowhere slamdances take place, not on a timeline, but in a dis-parate, chronologically incoherent fugue.
A conversation with a friend will turn into a conversation with a stranger. The memory of the night’s beginning will connect with the memory of the night’s ending in only the same way that Washington is somehow connected to Mexico City or Hong Kong.
How much fun you have at a party, any given party, and why you have fun there is a complete mystery; an alchemy that depends on weather, body chemistry and the strange, like-bodily-cosmic-generators-of-gravity way that people affect each other. Often, these great parties are an almost accident, but they can also be the product of a host(s) so good at calibration, instrumenta-tion, orchestration and various other manipulations of party planning that they qualify as Party Engineers, though party en-gineering is as much magic as science and as much art as any-thing.
A good party is performance. A good party is full of strange in-tangible possibility and the feeling – no matter how untrue -- that everyone in attendance is being pulled tight into a special enduring knot. Or, more likely, that the shirt worn shall for-ever smell of the beer spilled on it.
Some of the broad categories parties fall into:
a) Get Togethers -- These are usually small things with only one’s closest friends in attendance. Movies are usually watched. The usual beverage is beer. Guests cut out early with excuses that they’re getting up early for work or have to do early dog-walking.
b) Shindigs--These are a little bigger, encompassing a person’s broader social circle. At least one of the following must take place for a party to qualify under this category:
1) At least one glass must be broken by someone who apologizes profusely, offers to help clean up and/or to pay for broken item.
2) Your friend, X, brings that skanky and/or sleazy no-good ex of his/hers.
3) Your friend, X, fools around with your friend, Y, though they previously expressed a total contempt for each other.
4) You had the shindig as an excuse to invite the boy/girl that you have a crush-on/serious-attraction-to only to have him/her show-up/leave-with a friend of yours who KNOWS GOOD AND WELL HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT SO-AND-SO.
c) Bash -- Bigger...much bigger. Guests drunker. Usually a per-son’s whole social circle is in attendance, along with each of member’s friends who aren’t part of your social circle and, fur-ther out into the social web, acquaintances and the acquain-tances of acquaintances. In this category, this number must com-prise at least 15-20 complete strangers. Parties only qualify under this category if at least two of the following take place:
1) At least one window and/or important fragile per-sonal possession has to be broken in either spectacu-lar or mysterious circumstances by one or more people who claim to have no knowledge of the break even though they are standing amid the wreckage of the broken object.
2) A committed group of guests have done enough shots for it to be a mystery as to why they haven’t been hospitalized.
3) A committed core of guests stays until past dawn.
4) A committed core of guests stays until they’ve eaten all your breakfast cereal.
5) Something strange and unexpected occurs, e,g., you wake up to find a homeless man sleeping on your couch; you wake up to find a boat in your living room; you wake up in the backyard wearing only your underwear; you wake up in the backyard not wearing your under-wear.
We’ve been planning to have a big party -- a Bash even -- since before we moved in. Nell suggested it be a fancy-dress party. Jean wanted it to have lots of hors d’oeuvres. Brenna thought we should skip getting a keg and only have hard alcohol. Of course, we’d been talking about it since before we moved in and the party ended up being delayed by our inability to find a house, then by our lack of money, then by our legal troubles. And today it was even threatened by a serious ideological schism as to the nature of the party.
The schism happened as follows: A meeting was held. Our re-sources were amassed (collectively, we had $110, enough to buy two kegs or some amount of cheap hard liquor).
The roommates split into factions. The Hard Liquor Camp debated its position with passionate intensity. The Keg Faction was close to tears. The Hard Liquor Faction scoffed at the tears, accusing the Keg Faction of emotional blackmail and a “dictator-ship of relativism” where all alcohols were equal and hard alco-hol was deprived of its proper place as the true path towards inebriation. The Keg Faction fought back, accusing the Hard-Liquor faction of constructing a “democracy of absolutism” where discussion was irrelevant and the meeting was a sham that the Hard Liquor Faction expected to use as a rubber stamp for its own agenda.
I, being a disciple of the school that all alcohol is alcohol and if you give people enough they will get drunk, stepped out into the middle of the fight. “Hey, ummm, guys? I hate to point this out, but I think that a ‘dictatorship of relativism’ and a ‘democracy of absolutism’ might actually be the same exact thing.”
I was seconded by the Hors D’Oeuvres Faction who stepped in to suggest cheese and crackers, some sort of delicious sounding po-tato canapé, and vegetarian pigs and blankets. Almost everyone nodded in agreement.
The hors d’oeuvres became a point of compromise, something all of us could agree on, even the Keg and Hard Liquor (now to be known as HL) factions who were currently not able to look each other in the eyes.
After a short break, during which the HL Faction sat in the back yard and smoked a cigarette, a more general compromise was reached. Land would be ceded in exchange for security and a promise to forfeit Alsace, but not Lorraine. A League would be established to adjudicate future disputes. The Keg Faction imme-diately refused to join the new league, dooming us to future confrontation.
Our compromise provided appeasement for both the Keg and HL fac-tions. Kerran, also known as the I’ll Drink Anything I Don’t Have to Pay For Faction, bravely and uncharacteristically agreed to throw in enough money so that we could get kegs and hard liq-uor. It was a move of such audacity that both the Keg and HL Factions immediately started giggling and became giddy.
The HL used its exclusive access to our only vehicle to drive us to various liquor and grocery stores.
After we were all dressed and ready, I took photos of the room-mates clowning around: The Keg, HL and Hors D’Oeurve factions forming a kick-line; the entire kick-line doing a tequila shot; Kerran playing air-guitar.
Dani arrived and sat on the couch with her arms folded and a sneer on her face, occasionally giving me the Evil Eye as I took more photos of the roommate factions.
Some guests arrived early:
Gavin and his housemates: One of whom was now calling himself Stereophonic and the other, who had previously been called some-thing that sounded automotive was now just known as Jim.
The Jenns: A group of girls, most of whom are named Jennifer, who are constantly together. Should one be absent or unaccounted for, the ability of the others to mimic the quantitative value of what the missing Jenn brings to the party recipe is uncanny. Since I’ve known them, The Jenns have suffered a number of re-placements. Jenn Wilcox graduated college early and ended up at med school in California. Jenn Trayburn decided she’d had enough of DC and went to a painting school in Florence, where, I’m told, she does very little painting but, in the spirit of this entry, throws great dinner parties.
When the two of them left, it seemed like a terrible tragedy, the end of the Jenns even, but now, in retrospect, it was just a hiccup. Two Jenns were replaced by 4 more; later another two joined and now, there are so many of them, so many that they are almost never in unified attendance.
Bella, Imogen and Company: Really decked out, Bella and Imogen both wearing sequined dresses and have on very vivid make-up, with streaks of lavender, orange, and glittery blue. They look more like they’re going to a disco then to a party.
Rasheesh Prakul and his crowd: Slightly built androgynous Indie kids wearing clothing that’s too small for them. I swear that 5 years ago people didn’t look like this. They’re like a new spe-cies. They get their drinks and cluster together away from the rest of us.
Livia is back. She walks through the door and walks right by me. Typical of her. She’s with Gretchen, her girlfriend. They’re followed by Frank, his friend, Tom, and a tall thin kid whose name I don’t know. They don’t stop either, but that’s oblivious-ness, whereas with Livia, it’s rudeness.
Teddy shows up with his latest girlfriend, Mera. Mera is really nervous all the time and really self-conscious. She works for a Congressman in his press office and won’t invite Teddy to any of her work functions. She says it’s because they’re so awful and she thinks Teddy will be bored. Teddy thinks it’s because he’s black.
As the party got going, the HL Faction, in the spirit of bonho-mie, worked the tap on the keg. The Keg faction poured everyone shots. Gaff played with the hair of the HL Faction. The Keg Fac-tion’s ex-boyfriend showed up with his new girlfriend. Someone broke a lamp that had belonged to the HL Faction’s mother, but no one would claim responsibility for having done it…---------------------------------------
Darren Kaminsky is a writer living in Brooklyn. He can be contacted at sugarspun @ bigbagoftricks dot com.
© 2005 Me Three
