It's a Party

It's that time of year for all the holiday parties that people throw in order to observe the forms of tradition that were handed down to us from the days of yesteryear. Doesn't make it right or wrong, doesn't make it fun, maybe our ancestors were just as sodding miserable as we are at these events, so they made them a tradition as some form of exquisite revenge. Fair play to them, it worked.

It was a party, or so the overly cheery invitation promised us. An occasion for the group to get together, celebrate the season, pretend like we could stand each other, and snipe at each other from our respective corners of the room until the liquor ran out, or we were asked politely, but firmly to leave.

It was poorly planned, possibly by someone who secretly didn't like parties, but was tasked with throwing this one, and decided to make the biggest cock up they could as a way of getting out of ever being asked to organize another one. It was a pretty damn good strategy all things considered. It was to be "catered" by either people with the actual time to cook, and work at the same time, or some swank place that pretends they are high class, when the food they sell can be bought on any street corner in Prague for half the price with the added benefit that you aren't worried that the meat might be cat.  But, to not go is to be seen as a sort of dissident, and we all know that dissidents don't usually make it to the top, unless you count the top bunk of the shack in the Gulag they've been sent to as forced labour as the "top".  As someone who has a distinct aversion to any type of labour, forced or otherwise, I decided (after some "cajoling" by people who refer to themselves as having my best interest at heart) to attend, but I promised myself that I would not, under any circumstances, have fun.

The chances of "fun" were always minuscule to begin with, and as I stood in my well chosen corner that was by choice far, far from the maddening crowd with the obligatory drink in my hand, and the best fake smile I could muster on my face, I saw her coming my direction. I knew without a doubt as soon as we made eye contact that "fun" was no longer on the menu, and I was going to regret not getting the top bunk at the Gulag. I briefly considered jumping out of the window that was behind me, but I figured three things. one I was on the second floor, and not being a Bumble, I don't bounce, two that I would, if I survived the fall and the cuts, would be required to pay for aforementioned window, which I could probably not afford, and three, jumping out of a window (and not being Chuck Norris) would probably cause a bit of a disturbance, would probably be noticed, and would probably force me to take the bottom bunk at the Gulag, provided, of course, that I survived.

She had a look of determination on her face and a half full glass of wine in her hand, I figured neither of those two things boded well for me but then again Christmas, for me at least, has been full of disappointments for most of my life, and I figured this was but one more in a long line of them. I was not to be wrong. I sincerely hoped, but highly doubted, given my knowledge and experience with her that the glass she was holding was her first one of the night, and more absurdly that she was merely mingling in the crowd, and was just coming over to wish me Happy Holidays and would move on to the next person on her "list." I knew I was wrong, but hope springs eternal. I knew what she wanted, and I knew that it was going to be unpleasant, if people were horses, I'd be able to afford the window that I had eschewed jumping out of earlier. I sighed deeply, and then playing on the theme I took a deep drink of the fancy liquor that I had probably helped pay for as my "voluntary contribution" to the party. Sadly, neither of them would really provide me much solace in the shit storm that followed.

She sidled up to me and with her obligatory fake smile plastered (I quickly determined it wasn't the only thing plastered) on her face made the pretentious small talk that the Wolf that raised me never taught me the mastery of, and then launched her first salvo in the war I knew was coming. "You don't think much of me do you? she asked, her fake smile now merely a faint, distant memory. I looked around for any of the "people with my best interests at heart" but shockingly enough they all seemed to be far, far away, and heavily engaged in having conversations with others, and studiously pretending that they didn't see my current situation. The bastards, I vowed to exact a suitable revenge on each of them at the earliest chance that presented itself, making a mental note of what would be suitable for each of them both individually, and collectively. Sadly, that revenge was in the future, the present boded to be unpleasant, and here I was trapped with only half a glass, and no cookies.

Several replies to her opening broadside raced through my mind, some pleasant, some rude, some downright offensive before I settled on a quote from one of my favorite movies (The Lion in Winter) as a reply, it was not the best choice, but I didn't get to be where I was by making the best life choices. I smiled a bit and replied "Much? I don't think of you at all." It was, in hindsight, brilliant, but not the best reply for my immediate future, which can be said of many decisions that I made in my life.

Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, she was not impressed with my reply, and I notice the furrow beginning to crease her brow, and the storm clouds brewing in her eyes. I held up a forestalling hand, and said "but since you asked I will tell you my view(s). However, I will brook no interruption, nor do I want a glass thrown at my head, or a wine stain on my fanciest T-shirt." She narrowed her eyes and nodded her agreement, which all things considered, was a break for me. If only all of life were this easy. Although easy is a relative term in this case, this was probably going to be a bit of temporary fun for me, but in the long term I figured I would eventually come to regret it.

"I think" I began, "that if you were a nation/state you would be what the UN labels a 'failed state'. Like Somalia or East Pakistan, you just never should have been patch worked together, and the pieces of your particular puzzle, when assembled, do not show a particularly pretty scene. Now, in theory this wouldn't be a problem if you were to buck the saying by Aristotle that "no man (or woman) is an island", and your failure as a state/nation/person was merely a "you" problem. Something that could be isolated like the polio virus and a vaccination given to people "exposed" to you.  But you're not an island like Sri Lanka or Iceland, and you border people. Which also wouldn't be as bad if you were like Portugal or Northern Ireland and you only bordered one person, but you don't your like the China of the world (which borders 14 other nations), you border a lot of people, way more than 14."

"These bordering nation/state/people are, whether they like it or not, affected by you and your actions. Like the domino theory of Communism espoused by Eisenhower in the 1950's, people around you are influenced by things going on in your "state".  If you fall (like Korea) maybe one of them falls too (like Vietnam), and the next thing you know, here we are fighting a godsdamn land was in Asia that we have little to no hope of winning. It is "hell in a very small place" you being the hell, and our mutual border being the small place. Like Communism, but not nearly as well defined, your particular brand of whatever "-ism" spreads to the people you love, the people you hate (a list which I am sure to soon appear), the people you are indifferent to, and the people who feel the same emotion towards you."

"Of course, You don't understand this, and that isn't all your fault. Perhaps you were indulged as a child, and got most of the things you wanted without a struggle. I don't know, nor do I particularly care. But, once you became what passes as an adult, one would hope that you would be less self-indulgent, and more self-aware, and begin to detect the glimmerings of the fact that the universe is not you-centered. I don't think you figured that out, but even if you did, I think the fact distressed you so much that you chose to ignore it. This has lead you to being a selfish, self-centered adult with very little compassion, and even less understanding of what goes on beyond your 'borders". It's a pity in many ways, but you are like a revolution or a stain on a Petri dish, you spread, and it becomes very difficult to stop you."

"You could at least try to lessen your "failed state" status, maybe take a lesson from the French in Vietnam, build roads, bridges, and schools for the natives, and hope that it pacifies them, or at least confuses them long enough for you to prop yourself up with your good deeds. But, as far as I can tell, you don't you don't build, you destroy. You come in, angry at something (I can't tell and don't care what) lay a field of mines, stand behind a line of tanks, and throw napalm at anything that displeases you. And, it seems that anything that doesn't revolve around you displeases you. So, I wish you happy "stealing from the cult of Mithras" holiday, and a fond fare thee well."

I could tell that displeasing her was exactly what I had done, but she kept her word and didn't throw anything at me. She just stood there mouth slightly agape as she processed all the mean things (but true as far as I was concerned) I had just said. Took one brief look at me, nodded, and walked away. Now it was a party, and I felt that I had "served my time" as it were. I finished my drink, gritted my teeth through the good byes to my friends who had left me in that awkward situation, and went to find a lower class of drinking companions. Ones that I could relate to, after all, low is still a class.