Have you ever thought your’re bad at doing something your entire life, and one day you decide to try to do it anyway, and find out you’re even worse than you thought? That’s what happens when you try to dance at a party for the first time.
That’s a glass of what appears to be guava juice with salt and chili powder sprinkled on the rim. I never would have come across this rich-people-concoction if it weren’t for my habit of sneaking into private events. I know what you’re thinking. It looks like someone sprinkled sand over a glass of water. Fortunately, this hot and sweet chemistry lab felt pretty good in my mouth. Anyway, back to water and cough syrup.
It’s the weekend. This is that part of the week where normal people do normal stuff. You know… go out, meet friends, relax, maybe go on a trip, a weekend getaway, spend time with their family/girlfriend/boyfriend, maybe do something completely opposite like be creative, learn something new, or host an event, work for charity, make someone happy, etc. By now you probably know where this post is going. This post is going to be about how boring my Saturday was and how even more boring my Sunday is going to be. So do yourself a favour and read something else.
To be honest I never expected my weekend to be so boring. It was supposed to be: Super-creative day at work till 3, jam session with the band from 4 to 6, drum practice from 7 to 8 and roam around the city for the rest of the night, maybe get a nice Kebab dinner. What ended up happening was:
All productivity lost
YouTube, Netflix and Subway won. For a moment it looked like Dominos was going to win but thanks to a minimum order requirement, Subway made the cut. All is not lost, is what I am trying to say. So this is what happened…
I got out of work, eager to start working on some sweet hard rock music when I got two texts. One was from the fucking vocalist who all of a sudden decided he has to move to a new place. The other was from the jam-pad saying the drums were being taken out for repairs. It was like being kicked on both the balls. So I stood there, at the intersection, clueless on what to do next. I couldn’t go home because that would make me go crazy. So I did one of those slow-motion, stranger-in-Moscow style walks while contemplating the meaning of life. Then I sat down on a bench and watched busy people go about their day for a whole two hours. It was like that scene in Men in Black where Will Smith gets offered the job of a lifetime and sits down on a bench on the sidewalk deciding whether to go for the interview or not. Well, mine was a little different. I already had the job(fuck yeah). All I needed was some peace of mind. I never realised that observing people was so therapeutic! In that short amount of time I watched the orange sun go down slowly, people rush out of a temple, a woman beat the crap out of her boyfriend, a kid fall into a sewer and a customer mercilessly swear at a Vodafone store employee. Then I went home and ordered food from Subway. That’s how Subway won the healthy food race.
Yesterday, while jamming with the band I got up from the throne(kudos to the person who named the drum-seat), walked up to the mic and announced that I was not gay. Suddenly everything stopped. People stopped talking to each other, the music stopped playing, (oh I almost forgot) the clock stopped ticking. Then a girl burst out laughing. In my mind I went, “Woohoo! This is my calling. Stand-up comedy, here I come”.
I don’t get invited to a lot of parties and if do, I refuse immediately. Its just my inability to socialise. No big deal. But I went to a party today. I went because the person who invited me put it in a very interesting way. This is kind of what she said:
“I know your issue with a large group of people. Yes, there will be some of those ‘fancy stuck-up rich people’ that you talk about but most of them are humble and best of all, they have a good sense of humour. There will be people of all ages(there really was!). There’s no way all of them will react badly to your craziness. You don’t know these people. You might never see them again. So go ahead and embarrass yourself.
So I did and… I wouldn’t say I nailed it but I sure as hell survived it. The highlights of the event were:
I did not offend anyone
I weirded-out a few but they’ll be alright
I talked to everyone
Didn’t get uncomfortable with the ladies
So I am here now. I am still alive. I am looking forward to the next party. Actually, no. Not immediately.
A party isn’t a nightmare
A party is practise
Just like any other day I was sitting in my office planning how to deploy artillery around the campus when I heard the boss say something. My brain could not process what was coming out of its mouth. It kept making a weird noise. It sounded like “Party” aka nightmare. “We are having a party at my place tomorrow. I would like you to come” For some reason my immediate answer was “why?”. But what I really wanted to ask was “why should I come? You don’t own me. Why do you always refer to yourself as ‘we’? Are you a legion or something?”.
Long story short, what should have been a perfect evening with my drums, Rick, Morty and Mindhunter is now ruined because I have to talk to “people” instead. Thanks a lot life! I don’t think it’ll be that bad though. Unless a whole group of people try to corner me and force me to talk. I resort to arson in those situations. Which is highly unlikely given my celebrity status in the office.