i think they’re a typical contract-y bunch, bureaucratic by proxy, with their corp-speak and military connections. they have a delightfully non-descript name, like “Infocorp” and “Interglobal” and “Compudyne” and “Procomm” and “Bizco.” but as this was their 10th anniversary party, one surmises they were formed in the go-go 90s, when the business world still clung longingly to the go-go 80s and the ridiculous business jargon of paradigms being shifted using outside-of-the-box thinking that will integrate our core competencies with synergistic implementation.
the par-tay was at the splendid Room of Balls in Clarendon, which meant we were just a short drive away (thankfully). we gussied ourselves up at Chez Cate, trying on gowns JUST BECAUSE WE HAD ENOUGH GOWNS AVAILABLE TO TRY A BUNCH ON. that’s right, there was an over abundance of gowns between the two of us, and this is NOT because we attend formal affairs often. it’s simply because we’re girls, and we will take any chance we get to have a fancy dress. or maybe it’s just me.
anyhoo, my lady friend wore a darling plum coloured sparkly number, and i sported the burgundy and black frock that i got for the inaugural ball. after dresses were donned and hair was straightened, we eensed across the new skate rink that was where the sidewalk used to be and headed to Chez Groodthings to drop off a car and chat with Mère Groodthing. we took pictures and chatted, and it was pleasantly relaxing, as all trips there are.
and then we were off to the event! while driving in four-inch heels is no picnic, it’s easier than attempting to enter or disembark the driver’s seat of my vehicle with a full gown, heels, and long coat on. but after some rustling of crinoline, i managed to wedge myself in again and made our way down Route 50. after a period of time i realized that i once again confused Route 50 with 29, and thankfully turned off into Arlington before we ended up in DC. a brief trip up Wilson Blvd, a circle of the block (or two), and we arrived at a parking space just a couple blocks away, then hoofed it over to the Room of Balls.
they had a fancy light-up arch with the company name on it, and a 10-foot red carpet, and two bouncers hassling some dude who lost something on a previous night. oh and there were two 5-foot lengths of velvet rope on either side of the carpet, and if the bouncer wasn’t talking to you you had to be OFF the carpet. we overheard this poor guy telling bouncer #1 that he just wanted to talk to the coat check guys, please... then bouncer #2 came back out and checked off Ms. Groodthing and Guest and we were IN, leaving poor lost-thing man to the whims of the bouncers.
then there was a fancy ice sculpture at the entrance, which i totally didn’t notice until later (how do you miss a four-foot high ice sculpture you walked less than five feet from?). but i was preoccupied on making it to the coat check (down the stairs, says Mr. Bouncer), so that ice sculpture was just an obstacle. we headed down and checked our coats (and polka-dotted them, too), and said hi to the first familiar find of the evening, a asian gentleman waiting for his wife by the restrooms. he was actually known by my date, as were approximately four other people that evening (did i mention she’s quite new at the company?) so it was imperative to say hi to everyone that was recognizable.
up the stairs we trotted after that brief awkward exchange, and promptly headed for the bar. i was so intent on finding some liquor to aid my enjoyment that i ventured too far ahead and had to turn back upon hearing my name called by my date, who had stumbled upon her immediate boss. another awkward exchange, not as awkward as the last, left me unsure where i should be looking and if i should be talking more. and then the first food pusher of the evening arrived.
the food pushers were my favorite part. each server carried a plate or pushed a cart of canapés or hors d'oeuvres, and should a guest (GOD FORBID) refuse their offering, no matter how politely, he or she seemed to take personal offense to the slight of their miniature servings. our first encounter consisted of a man gently wedging between two of us with a “pardon me, miss” every second, then a firm statement of “Proscuitto.” i wasn’t sure if it was an offer or a demand, but we all gently demurred and he dejectedly removed his plate from our midst.
the rest of the evening was filled with more of his kind, though they were mostly more kindly with their offers. puréed red pepper soup, spanikopita triangles, proscuitto on breadsticks, lemon beef, ceviche, little apple pastry puffs, and more! every thing was delicious.
the evening wore on, but pleasantly enough. we watched (rather, listened to) an award presentation and mocked some of the more interesting looking folks, like the short dark-haired woman with way too much boobage. she didn't even have it pushed up, she wore it somewhat bound against her chest, but still her boobs were sized to belong to a woman thrice her stature. her dress was satiny red, and her hair was a black, smooth, bob, lending her the air of a burlesque dancer in her off-hours.
there was a fine mix of ditzes, classy dames, old creeps, and gentlemen, but after hellos were exchanged with everyone the Mademoiselle knew, we gathered our coats (we were the first to leave!) and departed the event.
and the moment you've all been waiting for, the pikshurs!
1 comment:
Yaaaaay!
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