MonkeyPants

Christmas Formal.

So yesterday was E’s Christmas work party.  I chose not to go last year, because of the things I’d heard. Besides, E was new to the company and I didn’t know anyone. But I went last night, and had me a mighty fine time.
This year, they were more parsimonious with drink tickets than they have been in other years. This is due mostly to apocryphal tales of someone barfing in someone else’s drink, someone else barfing on their own shoes, and yet another alleged barfer yarfing it up onto a random passerby on the street. Oh, and some guy passing out in the alley and getting taken for everything. Head Office was not amused.

This year, I had myself a hell of a time. I’ve never been to a party like that before.
Christmas Finery: They think of this as The Best Swag. If someone was so lucky as to score a “Local Stones Crew” T-shirt in the coveted army green, instead of the standard black, they wore it, and were envied by their peers. Likewise a band called Wolfstone or something. They gave out tres fabulous jackets. Pearl Jam Local shirts also seemed to be items to covet. The swag T-shirt is somewhat fetishized for these people. One guy even got a leather jacket from some band with a skull on its logo. People were very excited about that.

Respect of Authority: When Hutch, the limey with the mohawk, tells someone to do something, it gets done. Never mind that they’re all at a party, all supposedly equals.  Hutch barks out an order and anyone in earshot does what he says. It’s not like he’s the boss, because he isn’t. But he is 6’5 and has a lot of muscle and experience, so they do what he says (“Go get dessert, you bunch of fucking scunners!”) and everyone’s happy.

Well, I did leave at midnight, and E says some people drank way too much, but I had a good time talking with a bunch of people who make concerts and events and magic happen. And that was pretty damned cool.