Two Parties

Obligatory apologies for not showing this blog some love lately. That's all I'm going to say. Make your own creative assumptions about why I have been too busy to blog. It may have something to do with my recent popularity. I am so popular, in fact, that I was once invited to two parties on the same night. Last weekend.

I don't mean to brag about it, but it was a pretty big deal. Two parties! Count them: one, two! On the same exact night! My specific presence was requested at two extracurricular events at the same time. It wasn't even like these people wanted me there to babysit or play music or do anything remotely work-related. No! They wanted me!

So, in humble Liz fashion, I spent way too long deciding what to wear to two parties (I oscillated between snow boots and heels--I chose the heels) and showed up fashionably late. It happened to be the evening of a hearty Minnesota blizzard, but this was a minor detail. (Perhaps the snow boots would have been a tiny bit more practical, but who has time for feasibility when she is demanded at two parties in one night?) I have terrible night vision and probably should not operate anything larger than a laptop past sunset, I am deathly afraid of icy roads, I rarely traverse into the bustling city of Minneapolis, and I had recently lost a windshield wiper, but nothing was going to stop me from claiming my two-parties-in-one-night status! I ventured bravely into Saint Paul's neighboring city, driving approximately five miles per hour.

I was pseudo-accompanying my friend-turned-temporary-roommate to the first party: he had invited me but asked me to meet him there and neither one of us wanted it to appear to be a date. When I showed up, I realized that I only knew a handful of people, my pseudo-date included. Given that my non-date and I both wanted to remain visibly unattached so he could flirt with the straight girls (and given the slightly awkward reality of our sleeping arrangements as roommates), I stayed away from him. My options for acquaintance conversation quickly dwindled. Luckily, a co-worker had also been invited, and I spent much of the evening discussing recent events at the pre-school over wine (or, in my case, filtered water in a wine glass.)

Maybe it was because I had been invited to two parties on the same night. Maybe it was because I was wearing three-inch heels. Whatever the reason, I decided to brave it up and attempt to charm the strangers. I opened my conversations like this: "Hi, I'm Liz. I am invited to two parties tonight." At first, I didn't win anyone over, but after an hour or so, I suddenly became amazingly funny. Later, I would realize that there was a rational explanation this: the other people at the party were tipsy. Justification or not, I was making people laugh and I had a second party to attend. What a great night!

My ego purred when I finally made my way to the door and the hostess said, "No! You can't leave!" There was a crowd of five or six people surrounding the door, and they attempted to block my exit. Wow! I was that popular!

One of the other party-goers said to me, "So, Liz, are you heading to your second party?"

"Oh, did I mention that I have a second party to attend?" I asked, twirling my keys on my finger faux-distractedly. "Two parties in one night, in fact?"

"It was the very first thing you said to me," he said.

Suddenly, I became aware of the fact that my two-party-status was getting a little old. "Oh dear," I said, "I have been bragging about that all night, haven't I?"

A woman standing in the circle chimed in, "You mentioned that you would be going to a second party a few times to me tonight."

"I heard about it three or four times," someone else said.

I stood, slumping in my three-inch heels, near the blockaded door and tried to make a joke out of the situation. "I could have at least tried to find something else to brag about. Like maybe my excellent daytime vision."

The semi-circle of tipsy people laughed and tried to dissuade me from leaving. I charmed them with my jokes about other mediocre things I might have bragged about (my keen sense of smell, my waning algebra skill, my antiquated ownership of an actual boombox, etc.) Finally, after a few minutes of jovial banter, they agreed to let me go.

"Hey, Liz," one of them said as I turned to walk out into the blustery night to drive to my next demonstration of popularity. "Have fun at your second party tonight."

"Thanks," I said, blushing slightly.

"And, hey. Make sure to tell the the people at the next party what a hit you were at this one!"

Indeed. My entrance to the next party went something like this, "Hey, everyone, my name is Liz and I was a total hit at the last party I previously attended already tonight and I also have a boombox."

I don't mean to brag, but the drunk people at that party thought I was hilarious.