Fancy people

So this event actually happened a while back, but I didn’t write about it because at the time I was still giving birth to the series on Israel. And since not much is currently happening in my life, except the usual go to work on the weekday, get hammered on the weekend, or not, really depends on the week, I’ll tell you about it now.
I got a chance to attend a really fancy party. And I mean fancy. It was a closed event, in a restaurant, in Central Park. And I was the plus one, that’s how I got in. And I can’t give you any names because some of the people were semi-famous, meaning not Hollywood famous but famous in ‘certain circles’, whatever that implies. And needless to say the venue was gorgeous and we were welcomed by a waiter with a tray of champagne, which was too damn predictable, but very much appreciated.
I didn’t know anybody there, so the evening started off with a bunch of introductions and polite conversations about nothing. While doing that, we were supposed to wave away the food trays with tiny pieces of, I’m pretty sure, expensive stuff. And you’re supposed to wave the food away because I don’t know why, but most people did that so I complied. It could be to show off, in a way I’m so cool I eat foie gras for breakfast. Or it could be simply to prevent spitting out food while talking. I have no idea. I did eat eventually. The hell with manners.
Also, in my head I was running all the social etiquette rules of conduct I might have read on Facebook, which was not necessary. Just behave like human and you’ll be ok. No cursing, however, so there’s that. In actuality it wasn’t bad because most of the people didn’t know each other and just cruised around with phrases like ‘I think we might have met a few years back in Texas’ – to which you’re supposed to say ‘I don’t recall, but the weather sure is nice’.
At one point my date said he needed to have a private conversation with somebody, and I quietly hissed ‘I fucking knew it’. Because admittedly it is seriously not cool to be in a group of unfamiliar people, let alone these might be fancy people. I had a perfect backup plan though. I decided to hide in the bathroom. Which worked out fine, I just sat there and played candy crush for a bit. But then I thought somebody might have seen me retire to the lady’s room, and now in their head I must be having a really big dump. So I quickly returned to the party and went around blabbing my way through the evening. And I did end up meeting with a few cool persons, and laughing, and actually having a good time. It might have been the open bar.
So, the moral of the story is fancy people are just like everybody else. Except with better food. 6689626ce31920f954f34ea909e5c0c3

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