I once had a long argument with R about what a party is. Everyone seems to have an opinion on parties. "Oh, I love partying". "Man, I attend the coolest parties in town". "Dude, I'm booked on Friday night - there's this party happening with karaoke". Personally, I don't see what the hoopla is all about.
I begin with the worst form of party - the office party. It's supposedly your employer's way of showing that it cares for your work-life balance. Somehow, everyone is presumed to enjoy eating at flashy restaurants, and everyone is presumed to be a hard-drinking party animal. Usually, the boss and the long-serving employees get piss drunk, scream out loud along with the blaring Bollywood music, shake their (substantial) tummies around the table and crack horrible jokes. Then the old-timers gossip the same gossip they gossiped about three years ago. The newbies are scared - what will they reveal to their boss, who will force them to get drunk, how do they react if their boss asks them for a dance. Then there are the ones who hate the whole thing; they will sit quietly at the end of the table and eat finger food all evening. A few critical points to note - attendance is compulsory, especially if you are a newbie; jokes that attack your personal life (especially relationships and sex) are the best and safest jokes; strictly no honest opinions about work and your boss must be expressed.
Then there are the random parties. There's a crowd of a dozen people headbanging away to obscenely loud rock music. Everyone knows a maximum of one other person in that group. Everyone is to be addressed as "dude". Your standing in the eyes of the others is determined by how many parties you have attended in the past week. You find that one other guy who wants a beer as badly as you do and you stick to him throughout the evening, both of you shoulder-barging your way through the crowded floor to the bar. The hot chick in the strapless dress is the target for every man, single or attached, but she is more committed to her drink than anything else. Food is ordered by anyone and everyone, and plates of random stuff are passed around to everyone. Few words are spoken, and sentences always begin with "Err... What did you say your name was, dude?" The exception, of course, is the hot chick - everyone knows her name, her dad's job, her brand of perfume and the date of her next period.
Next in line are the private parties. This usually follows a random party, if you have made the cutoff of 17 parties in the past one week. The guy whispers into your ear or sends you a text message with the invitation. The venue has no furniture - just bean bags and mattresses on the floor. The booze is only beer, vodka and, if you are exceptionally lucky, whisky. Food is pizza or junk ordered from the take-out round the corner. A basketball game runs on mute on the TV - note that cricket and football are for the masses, only the uber-cool American games are allowed. One gang of people is in the balcony, and the air there smells strange. That's pot luck for you. The hot chick is slightly more amenable to a conversation. Just when you think you are approaching jackpot, the hunk in the Benetton pullover whisks her away to one of the bedrooms and shuts the door behind them. By the time anyone realises, everyone is drunk and it's 5 AM.
The best is reserved for the last. These are the parties which you go to with your best friends from college, especially those who live in a different city. Everyone knows everyone's best and worst habits. Everyone knows exactly which girls or guys they dated and why the breakup happened. There are nearly no secrets. The objective is to make noise, and plenty of it. The venue is a comfortable middle-class pub where the music is classic rock and not too loud. Discussing work is completely forbidden. Discussing the "good old days" is a necessity. Singing along to the songs is appreciated, but asking an unwilling person for a dance is not. Jokes are outright silly, or dependent on wordplay. Everyone gets drunk, but remains cheerful and an integral part of the party. You leave the party wondering when you will have such a good time again.
What was the point of all that? I guess it just puts things in perspective. Firstly, no booze, no party. Example, your neighbour kid's third birthday celebration. Secondly, it would have been a much better idea to sink into your couch at home and catch the Saturday evening game. No matter what kind of party. Third, college days are the best. Cheap food, cheap clothes, cheap booze, cheap jokes, priceless fun.
