Sunday, April 05, 2009

A beautiful morning

The company awards show is over, and it wasn't so painful, after all. Not for me, anyway. I can imagine how hung over some of my coworkers are this morning, though. Quite a few of them were hangin' out downtown, and started drinking by 3PM, skipping the free snacks at the reception and barely making it on time for the awards show, which started at 7:45. It is absolutely necessary that enough people behave this way to make this awards show the enthusiastic and loud party event that it is. And afterwards, there's more drinking. The underage crowd of my branch rented a room in a local hotel, and Waifer made a point of telling me that he'd brought a good blender. He's a fun kid who ran around the reception taking pictures of himself with as many of the other women as he could with his incredibly small camera, gushing over all of our dresses.

After walking around and greeting each other, we made the short trek over to the building where the awards show was to be held, jaywalking and clippety clopping our way in seldom worn shoes and freezing in the wind. Our lilliputian headteller was wearing a strapless dress without any sort of cover-up at all. No little purse, either; she'd announced, at the reception, how she'd managed to fit everything in her bra. Those keys must've made things even more chilly for her. Oh, wait! I know she had a camera, too (good thing there was no golf involved, huh? She may have serious cleavage, but she's too short to hide a putter.)

Anyway, the awards show itself started and ended on time, which is good, and there were enough tipsy and drunk people there to pretend that it was a really fun event. Actually, the loudest person in our crew was Bomba, a parttime teller who is older than I am. And plastered. The young-but-legal women who'd been out drinking with her were surprising calm and quiet. I know that one of them, Presto, did not particularly want to drink much, and I hope she was able to pace herself--that can be hard, over a long period of time. She's running The Boston Marathon in two weeks, and is having enough problems without getting sick. I'm worried for her. She's got a very sore hip that might be tendonitis if she's lucky--an almost senseless word in this case, since it will undoubtedly make her miserable over 26 miles. In the past, she has had the kind of injuries that would have scared me away from running. She's not quite 24, but she's already been running very competitively for almost a decade. I hope she recovers enough to have fun on Patriot's Day. (Of course, I don't let on that I'm worried when I talk to her. "You'd be tapering, anyway," is what I say, and that's true. The distance won't be a problem, as long as she's not in pain.)

After I'd lived through the show, I met Ekim and we went to the Hilton bar, where there's live jazz almost every night, and last night was especially good. Pianist Steve Rudolph is always there, and was joined by vocalist Gregory Porter last night. I'm surprised that such a small city can attract so many impressive musicians to play in a small hotel bar (the bar also stocks some of the best local beers, which is a plus).

Since I didn't get enough to eat last night, I woke up with a minor headache from drinking, myself--on three beers. Right now, it's hard to believe that I survived the kind of binge drinking I did twenty-plus years ago. Waifer told me that he was hoping to see me "a little messed up," and I tried to explain that I've been there and back. I've survived spinning rooms, nausea, and hangovers lasting more than a day when I was younger, but I'm pretty sure it would kill me now. It's a blessing that some things get old.

Speaking of drinking, I think this is pretty funny

It sometimes drives me nuts, the way Serena the Cat seems to be addicted to her own voice, but at least she's a quiet drinker.

Serena: "Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow."
Actonbell: "Omigod, shut up."
Serena: Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow."
Actonbell: " "
Serena: "Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow."
Actonbell: " "
Serena:"Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow."
Actonbell (glaring down at The Cat) "What? What did you say?"
Serena: " "

This is an evil, contrary cat.

10 comments:

Tom & Icy said...

Our dog Dusty was the drinker of our family. He would take a can with the open end in his mouth and hold his head upwards so it drained down into his mouth. Wish I had gotten a pic of that before he died. After just a few drops, he'd stagger down the alley almost falling down off of four feet. He was a funny little fellow.

Doug said...

That was beautiful writing. My favorite line- "She may have serious cleavage, but she's too short to hide a putter." I'm glad the new coworkers are developing Acton-names.

Nessa said...

My drunk days are long behind me. I much prefer watching drunks. Much more entertaining and no hangover for me.

Balou said...

You painted a perfect picture with your words. And I'm with Doug, that line was perfect! I'm with you on not missing the spinning rooms or nights sleeping on the bathroom floor. Ugh. Even though, it seems about once every 5 years or so my brain forgets about those torturous side effects and I play it out all over again. Only to wake up and say those famous five words, "I'll never do that again!"

Jocelyn said...

It's the perspective you bring to this storytelling that I appreciate the most--you were having fun; you had committed to the evening; yet you saw it from one step back, despite your mild hangover this morning.

And didn't we all have an idea that part of adulthood was Fancy Dress evenings...only to grow up and find they happen O So Rarely?

The Lazy Iguana said...

Office functions are MUCH more fun with alcohol.

The best is when you have had just enough to lower your humor standards, but other people are sloshed.

Fred is the noisemaker here. He thinks he is a dog. When he wants outside he scratches at the back door with his front paws while standing on his rear paws, and meows constantly. Sooner or later you break down and let him out.

TLP said...

I've said it before, but I must say it again: I love the way you write.

That video is SOOOOO funny!

Fred said...

Sounds like an Office-type environment. I used to love these types of functions...you have some interesting colleagues.

Inevitably, though, some drunk fool would stick a foot in their mouth wand have to face the music with the boss on Monday morning.

Bone said...

she'd announced, at the reception, how she'd managed to fit everything in her bra.

Wow. Is that a common practice? I suddenly feel so sheltered.

That was a well-told tale.

Ariel the Thief said...

"She may have serious cleavage, but she's too short to hide a putter." ROTFL! Serious writers would go green for that line, Actonbell. I enjoyed your writing and your conversations with Serena.