We had Gene’s 30th birthday party at the Warehouse Cafe in Port Costa on Saturday. I had a great time, and learned some things about myself, just like a sitcom character would have. For example: even when not drunk, I will cheerfully talk to just about anyone about my new bra. I also learned I don’t actually have to drink to relax at a party, though it definitely helped that I knew a lot (though by no means all) of the people there. And I always assumed my inability to remember much of what happened the next day was alcohol-related, but now I suspect it’s just me having a poor memory, because a lot of it is still a blur.
Some fun stuff that I do remember:
– Early on, one of the non-party guests at the bar hit on Tracy. The same guy hit on me, but he waited until the bar was closing and I was literally the last woman there. He invited me to spend Thanksgiving with him, which I have to say is one of the nicest ways anyone has ever tried to pick up on me.
– After Tracy left, Nuala and I compared notes and found she had remarked on both the softness of Nuala’s sweater sleeve and of my shoulder skin. So Nuala and I spent a little while petting each other’s arms to compare. Sorry there’s no picture of that.
– Usually when drunk I seem to wind up trapping Ilk in a corner and talking to him for a long time about my love for Gene and stuff. This time, sober, I trapped Ilk in a corner and talked to him for a long time about the difference between Henry Miller and Arthur Miller.
– I didn’t recognize when the band covered Rhianna or “Chocolate Rain,” but I did recognize the Madonna song and “Sexy Back,” so make of that what you will.
– Since both Gene and I were too busy talking to people to drink much, we found ourselves sober at the end of the night and chose to make the long, chilly ride home rather than sleeping in the loud, possibly bug-infested hotel. (I want to stress that he was the one who suggested leaving. But I did jump all over the idea once he put it out there.) We then had to have a long argument with another patron, a biker about our age, who really wanted us to come stay in his guest room in Crockett rather than riding back to SF. He obviously hangs out there a lot and has seen too many bikers lurch off drunkenly to their bikes at the end of the night. I really really love anyone who is willing to fight that hard to keep a potential drunk driver off the road, but, being sober, we went home anyway, and it was really nice to wake up in our own home the next morning with the coffee maker right there.
– Finally, I learned that if you want a party chronicled right, hand your camera to Martina for half an hour. We have her to thank for many of these photos. Enjoy!
We watch the band, and I have to close my eyes due to rockingness.