It's crazy how the minute you think that everything in life has changed, you realize that actually nothing has changed. Walking into a work reception/dinner where I don't know anyone feels strikingly similar to walking into the cafeteria the first day at a new middle school. Thankfully, I did the new kid walk enough growing up that as an adult it isn't that bad. A glass of wine or two helps too.
Now I assume that the zing you get when you realize you're at the 'cool kids table' is also one of those things that doesn't really change. I can't tell you for sure because it never actually happened to me when I was in school, but last night I found myself as part of the 'cool kids' and the zing was unmistakable though not as purely pleasant as I would have thought.
Now I know that its a little late in life to be talking about the 'cool kids' but don't judge because you know damn well what I'm talking about. At every large gathering there's usually the table that you maybe just momentarily wish you got to sit at because they seem like they're having way more fun than the rest; that's the cool kids table. For those of us who have never been at said table...inclusion is an invigorating thrill even if it's a decade late.
One thing about the adult cool kids? They can drink. Holy shots of tequila can they drink. There were pre-dinner cocktails, during dinner cocktails and after dinner dwinks too. The peer pressure to join in on these dwinks was definitely there and I have to admit...I caved. After a long day of conferencing on myelofibrosis, a stiff vodka drink is called for. Perhaps not 8, but I was with the cool kids dammit!
The drinks they multiplied and as the night went on I discovered other things about the cool kids: inclusion is based on utility. My usefulness apparently stems from a decades worth of work in restaurants combined with two decades worth of living in a college town: my knowledge of shot recipes is extensive. One must earn their position in the cool kids corner and Washington Apples, Redheaded Sluts and Royal Flushes were my contribution.
I also learned that my super sneaky shot hand-off maneuver can in fact be successfully executed alone with minimal adjustment. While I know how to make all these shots, that doesn't mean I'll actually take them. I have no desire to spend my evening worshiping the porcelain god and shots like these will pretty well guarantee that as an inevitability. The shot hand-off maneuver is very useful when in groups of people who will shamelessly pressure alcohol upon the reluctant, you could fight them or you could just circumvent the whole deal, hand-off the shot and enjoy the show! Success rates improve proportionate to the level of intoxication of your companions but when executed properly has a 90% success rate in the form of not vomiting up your own saliva the next morning. I was very successful on Saturday night.
So as bar closed down around us and I prepared to make my way back to my hotel room, I discovered that my cool kids were not done but making plans for continued shenanigans. It this point the inevitable made itself known. I know exactly why I have never been nor will ever be anything but a guest at the cool kids table: screw that. Eight hours of drinking and ridiculousness is waaay more than enough for me and as my friends know and my new cool friends discovered, ridicule all you'd like but when I say I'm going home, you'd best get the hell out of my way.
As I walked off on my own (in a well lit, safe area) and listened to the shouts from behind me I realized that the evening had boiled down to A LOT of work. My night with the cool kids was fun but at the end of it all I realized, I don't really like the cool kids. I'd rather make drunken cupcakes with Matthew and build a pillow fort with Club Fun on a cold rainy day. Plus, I made it to breakfast the next morning and I'm pretty sure none of my cool friends did. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment