Pamper Guests - The Parklander Magazine

friends, or your friends’ older siblings, what they meant — andhope they didn’t laugh at you for being impossibly lame for notknowing.Another year, an inebriated Mrs. “Miller” came in from aNew Year’s party on the arm of her husband. She teetered to thesofa, plopped onto the cushions, then glanced at her cleavage inconfusion. Then she put her hand in her bra and pulled out atwenty. “Huh,” she said. “Where did that come from?” Herlook of magical amazement didn’t match her husband’s angryface. Again, I left as fast as I could.Fast forward to adulthood. Ialways thought that dancing on coffee tables and donning lampshadeswas just in the movies. Nope. People go nuts at NewYear’s. The challenge is in having fun, but not so much thatyou’re all anybody can talk about for weeks afterward. Mr. andMrs. “Anderson” were (are) a lovely, sophisticated couple. Mr.Anderson had a devilish side. One New Year’s Eve, the partyhost convinced him to participate in the stroke of midnightpresentation. No one but the two of them knew.The ball dropped, “Auld Lang Syne” began to play, and Mrs.Anderson stood in the middle of the exuberant kissing crowdwondering where on earth her husband was. All eyes turned to acommotion at the top of the grand staircase. Father Time (thehost in a white robe and long gray beard) and Baby New Yeardescended the stairs. To Mrs. Anderson’s horror, her pot-belliedand hairy husband was Baby New Year. Dressed in nothing butblack socks and shoes (the better to show off his bow-legs andknobby knees), a white towel wrapped like a diaper, a top hat,and a red satin sash, Mr. Anderson puffed on a cigar, grinningear to ear, as he made his way to the ground floor.We, the crowd, thought it was great. Hilarious.Mrs. Anderson didn’t speak to him for amonth.Probably the weirdest display of the dissolvingof the sanity filter happened a fewyears ago. Fifty or so people, dressed intheir finest, had apparently imbibedenough that forming a raucousconga linearound theswimmingpool seemedlike a nifty idea.Wearing paper hatsand sequined tiaras,hoisting drink glasses inone hand while graspingthe body in front of themwith the other, they staggeredand kicked their way around thechaises to (here’s the unbelievable part)Tom Jones’ She’s A Lady. And yes, right about thethird time around the pool, several people lost their footingand splashed in, dragging others with them.All in all, one of the best New Year’ s parties I’ve been to.thePARKLANDER57