EPIC 80's PARTY IN A LONDON FLAT

Back in the 80's I was in London for the going away party of a girl I had only met the day before. I was invited because I was staying at my friend Cathy's flat where the party was being held. Mylene, her Dutch roommate, was returning home from college. And Cathy wanted to send her on her way with a blast.

The party was to begin after the pubs closed. The prospects for a good night's sleep were dim at best and impossible at worst. It was a bring your own bottle party although we had bought 44 pounds worth of liquor, mixer and beer. We thought that was enough for the many freeloaders who were only going to bring themselves to a bring your own bottle party. I had provided the food- chips, cheese puffs and three different kinds of chocolate chip cookies, which was most of the snacking food groups, but not enough to absorb all the booze.

No one knew how many really came, but Shaun, a carpenter, figured that the way the floor was shaking, with only 10 more people it would have collapsed into the downstairs' neighbors' living room turning it into a dying room.

Since women threw the party, it was elbow-to-elbow men with the few girls invited scattered here and there, hither and yon. Less competition and more men for Cathy. The bar was depleted quickly and not a lot really brought their own. So the stock was low, a rather sobering experience for me, as I had hoped to get slammed.

Watching drunks at a party; when you're sober, is like being on a playground with toddlers. You can see accidents about to happen everywhere. So I spent most of the night stopping people from butting heads while dancing and from burning each other with lit cigarettes.

The stereo was breaking the sound barrier like a low flying fighter jet and the bedrooms were all locked to keep out the maddening crowds and avoid a swamp of semen. There were several couples nuzzling and nodding off in the corners and several crowded attempts at ballroom dancing to head splitting music. Hey, drunks just wanna have fun or beat your face to a bloody pulp for fun.

I had a run-in with some drunk bobbies and the rest of the night a Liverpudlian kept telling me that if I had any more problems with them, just to let him know. He sat there, cocked and ready to fling himself into a fight, just glaring at everyone. A fight would have really made his night. I assured him everything was fine.

I watched as Cathy roamed around making out with guy after guy. She knew it would gall PJ, a gay friend she loved who loved her back. But she enjoyed dumping him into a deep depression with each kiss, grope and grinding of hips with other guys. She'd glance at him and wink, as he got more and more upset. Kind of a death spiral courtship.

It was a doomed relationship swirling in a stew of unrequited love, different sexual agendas, yet joyful and warm, when Cathy wasn't putting PJ into a boiling jealous rage mixed with a deep funk. This was a yin and yang battle of wishing for death or another Irish whiskey.

I saw a girl phoning for a taxi, but she didn't know where she was, so she handed the phone to a friend lying at her feet to give the directions. Whether she ever got a taxi is anybody's guess. She easily could have ended up on the floor beside her friend. And could still be there over some 35 years later.

It was finally thinning out when I heard Shaun exclaim. “Oh, my God, the sun's coming out!” as he desperately searched for a padded place to sleep on. Cathy had told me that I could sleep with her friend Margaret, but she hadn't told Margaret as I tried to slip into her bed in the living room. Needless to say, that didn't work out very well, as Margaret uttered a stream of Gaelic invectives and a threat to cut off my hands if I got frisky and handsy. It was like trying to sleep with the American Werewolf of London, albeit Irish.

I woke up to the alarm clock ringing and rattling on a dish. This was to wake up PJ to go to work. PJ didn't stir, but Shaun jumped up to turn it off. He fumbled with it until it began to wind down, then suddenly it started clanging again, jerking Shaun awake once more. He had put it on his chest..

Mylene had to wake us all up to say goodbye. I leaned out of the window to see her weaving down Bayswater Ave. dragging her heavy suitcase. I yelled out “Ta!” She turned and waved, teary eyed over leaving her friends and all that London laughter and life.

I started to slide into sleep with Margaret, as we were both totally shattered. Drifting off I whispered that I was the handy man. Pulling herself up from a deep sleep, she slugged me playfully and lost consciousnesses.