Marvelous Party
We went to a marvelous party on Saturday night. It was given by a banker who wanted to celebrate a birthday in high style. Just under three hundred people made their way to a Park Avenue town house that currently houses a prestigious organization that, like most clubs and institutes and such, rents its facilities for parties. The facilities in question were pretty grand: five large rooms on two floors. In the ballroom, upstairs, a very accomplished big band provided the music for some very accomplished dancing; the host has taken up ballroom dancing with a vengeance, and old relics such as Kathleen and I quickly learned that our comfortable shuffling just got in the way. On top of which the rhythm wasn't right for comfortable shuffling. The finger food was very tasty - and filling, too - as were the pastries. The bartenders were kept busy mixing Cosmopolitans. We left just before the cake - a bust of Albert Einstein - was cut. The rain had stopped, and we leapt into a taxi. It was ten-twenty.
The party animal in me, once rather formidable, has certainly passed on. Seeing avid faces all around me, I could recall the yearning for surprise and the craving for new and interesting people that propelled me through countless overstimulated hours. But I was so relieved not to be similarly afflicted that I didn't try.
