A blast of 80's synth-pop savages my ears as I saunter in. Everybody's already shitfaced. This is
my kinda party.
I'm not late, but I'm not early. I prefer to be the first person at the party, so I can get good and drunk before the sophisticates arrive, but today I was held back by a very demanding game of
Tetris. Never fear, though, dear reader — I had the foresight to pre-party and have heavily self-medicated myself.
It is not easy to drink whiskey out of a flask while wearing a Big Bird costume, but
I am a professional, and sacrifices must be made for art. Unfortunately, even I, man of action, was unable to arrange any sort of sensible apparatus that would allow me to drink a beer in this thing. And I'll be damned if I'm going to take this mask off and reveal myself to
these people. I'm fucking Captain Nemo* and I'm lasting until
dreamland.
A masquerade ball creates a truly surreal social dynamic, especially one like this, with such a strictly enforced
anonymity policy. At your average party a fair number of the guests know a fair number of the other guests and small cliques of talkers, drinkers, and gamers tend to form, with a few social butterflys flitting in between groups. Now everybody's acting like a butterfly.
A small group of people has gathered playing cards in the kitchen. They are
drinking soda. I will avoid those people.
Dr. Doom is apparently as drunk as I am, but unable to compensate for his newfound liberated state. He challenges me to an arm-wrestling contest. From the avoidant stares, it appears that I am not the first.
"Shit, man, that's what they're doing out in the garage."
With a "Really?" he scampers off. In reality there's a Stormtrooper out there trying to get someone to play
beer pong with him. They should make a nice couple.
After surveying the oddest of landscapes, a social arrangement of anti-social people without any ties of familiarity to guide them, I do
what I always do in awkward situations, and head outside. There are even more people outside than inside, succumbing to the same instinct as I am, and smoking their dirty fags. I light up through a hole in the neck of my costume, and contemplate going to the bathroom so I can shotgun a beer in the shower.
"
Who the hell are all of you people?"
*Rumors that I actually did end up fucking the guy in the Nemo costume are wholly without merit.