Part 3: Party time:
The small white door opens up onto the biggest party I’m ever likely to see. One of the thin girls in the black tuxedos and bow ties comes to offer goodies off of the tray she’s carrying. There are red drinks in small shot glasses, small Hors d’Oeuvres made from slices of Portobello mushrooms, Brie on Triscuits, and small porcelain dishes filled with tiny pastel colored pills all with tiny smiley faces on them.
“Take all you want, there is plenty more,” the thin girls tempted. I politely take a shot and a few pills, and then push farther into the chaos.
At the center of the maelstrom is a buffet table loaded with all kinds of meat. A small balding man with a green turtleneck sweater is there to serve the meats. He doesn’t ask what I want, he just hands me a plate with some thinly sliced roast beef and shaved ham and tells me to move on. So I’m left standing there with a plate of meat and no utensils wondering what I should do now. I could see many people just go quietly to the side of the room and look for a place to get away from the ruckus. After contemplating inaction, I just grabbed the meat and ate it down and started to dance.
I must be getting old, because I am exhausted. Drowsiness is taking over and I’m starting to fall asleep.
He put up a fight, but it doesn’t matter. The sleep comes to all.
