Ah, the Christmas season. What a great time for party-going! The problem is that it’s difficult to get invited to more than about two Christmas parties a year–one of which is always a work Christmas party, which, punch bowl or not, is pretty much exactly like going to work at night.
Either way, two parties in 30 days doesn’t say “festive season,” so much as it does “feasible siesta.” And that means that if you want to experience Maximum Holiday Cheer, you’re going to have to right now start crashing a party or six. And why shouldn’t you? Invitations are for people who know how to pronounce “radicchio” and/or press their jeans. Besides, isn’t the whole point of a party to meet new people? So wouldn’t you automatically be helping out any party you crashed by being, for every single person there, a totally new person?
Yes, you would. You’ve heard the old saying, “Crash a party, save a party?” Oh, you haven’t? Well, then it’s obvious you need to get out more.
Now, as to party crashing methodologies (PCM’s). As a young and naive party crasher, I used to simply walk in the front door of a party I’d seen from the street and announce, “Hi, there! I don’t know anybody here–but I’m fun!” But in my experience, this PCM doesn’t really work; mainly, I’ve found that it makes people laugh confusedly before, as a group, they start pushing you back out the door.
Years of experience have taught me that the very best way to crash a party is by first sneaking into the party-house’s garage, and then entering into the house through the door that connects the garage to the kitchen. I just walk in, shake my head disappointedly, and say, “I guess there isn’t that case of soda out there. Oh well.” And I’m hanging with the cool people in the kitchen before you can say, “Hey, let’s look in this cabinet here!” (By the way, you wouldn’t believe how much good stuff people don’t put out at their parties. It’s so wrong. Except I’m not big on sharing, so it works out.)
What makes the Garage-to-Kitchen PCM so great is that the highest quality people at any party are always in the kitchen, because they’re the ones who: A. Are good-looking enough to be okay with the interrogation-quality lighting of most kitchens, and B. Possess the initiative and strength of character it takes to fully bypass the middle-man, and hang out at the very source of the party’s food and drink. So they’re good-looking, smart, and have all the food. If that doesn’t say Alpha Crowd, then my name’s not Jimmy Steele. Or Tony Rock. Or (a favorite) Jack Rippington.
Once, on a whim, I even used Rumplestilskin Jones–but it turned out the people at that party weren’t as drunk as I thought they were.
Anyway, must run. I feel I have more to say on the Party Crashing theme–and would love to hear your ideas and thoughts on this matter, which, given the time of year, I am sure is just now paramount on your mind.