Monday, December 15, 2008
The Company Holiday Party
In my former life, Holiday Party meant toy drives and free food donated by lobbyists toward the end of legislative session. In my new life, Holiday Party means put on a suit similar to those worn on a daily basis during my former life and marvel at the elevated levels of intoxication being exhibited by my co-workers.
After scrambling to make my way up to the city, I decided that I looked far too good to be engaged in heavy drinking. Compliments on my tie and shirt combo were bountiful. I was walking around the room shaking hands, kissing babies on the cheek and taking names. I was behaving like a guy who wants to one day transition back to my former life...
At any rate, I had no clue how amusing it would be to see the many different levels of being shitfaced that there are to be seen. There were girls wearing skimpy dresses. There were girls wearing ugly dresses that thought their dresses were cute (Dress Fail). There were guys who were too cool for ties. There were other guys who thought that tuxedos would be appropriate. There were co-workers dancing on stages. There were married co-workers dancing on stages that made you wish that marriage didn't exist and that she was 4-5 years younger. There were managers and directors and VPs that every wanted to say hello to early in the night before they left sobriety behind in the dust. There were crowded dance floor and crowded bars and crowded stairwells, that made every attempt to reunite with your buddies or that co-worker that you have a crush on into a 30-minute ordeal. There were the lame boyfriends of female co-workers who sound good on paper but are total douchebags in person. There were the female friends of female co-workers that you hope to run into more often in the wake of the party. There was the cheesy live band and the non-stop invitations to battle on the dance floor - even though all parties involved know that grinding on your colleague could result in some extreme awkwardness during the next team meeting.
A smile from a large African American bouncer that saw me locking arms with an Asian princess, a ride in an unmarked van, a few drunken text messages received after the party, a trip to Mel's Diner and a dubious ride in a limo that shouldn't have been driving up hills later and the Holiday Party was officially over.
But stories of dance floor hook ups and major league hangovers were just beginning. Though many feel that the Holiday Party is something that can be missed, I am thoroughly looking forward to next year's festivities. In fact, if my job is still secure at this point next year, I might feel a bit more inclined to partake in the free libations and take to making some stories of my own.