Did I....Salsa?

Something cool happens after you've been at a company a long time. I remember one of the first Christmas parties I went to, when I knew perhaps two people there and when they left, I sort of wandered from doorway to doorway fake mingling. There have been years when I knew more people, and even danced a little to my everlasting joy and subsequent embarrassment. After the first party at my current company, one of my friends backed into me with her SUV, which wouldn't have been so bad if I wasn't on foot at the time. Then there was last year's, where a girl was so drunk she may actually have been hitting on me. I'm still not sure. She left the country not long after that, but I'm sure that was a coincidence.

This year was a LOT of fun. I know more people and there are more people I'm comfortable talking to, as well as more people who are willing to talk to me. I actually left work at 5:00 and by 5:30 I had a glass of champagne in my hand. I don't remember the last time I had alcohol. It's entirely within the realm of possibility that this was the first time this year. I felt the effects quickly enough to pace myself, and only had one more beer since I'd later have to drive home. Of course, even blogging under a pseudonym I need to be cautious in what I divulge, lest I find myself absent from the party and the company next year. I can't write about who was embarrassingly drunk, or which guys hooked up with which girls. I can't share my CEO's speech, although we are getting a bonus vacation day this year. I certainly can't point out which older coworker was spinning his jacket over his head on the dance floor and leaping at girls young enough to be his granddaughters. And don't worry Jerry, I won't reveal anything about you doing that “tea kettle” dance before running home early to “[your] wife whom [you] love dearly”, you big geek softy. Only alcohol could ply susch shecrets out of me.

I mingled. I laughed. I told stories. I heard stories. I admired the sights. I didn't dance for the first set of the evening, or even the second. I cautiously followed some more enthusiastic friends out for the final set, let the music take me, and the rest is a blur. When it was all over, there was broken glass and alcohol on the floor, my jacket was hanging off a random chair, my tie was half undone, my sleeves were rolled up, and someone that sounded an awful lot like me was shouting “ENCORE!” and ”FREEBIRD!” which was odd considering the last few songs were Spanish style. Was I Salsa dancing? Is that a dance? Am I confusing sauce with a dance? I'm so confused right now. I do know that this is the first party I stayed until people were leaving and the floor was being mopped up, and the first year I contemplated going to the after-party at a local club. The problem was I couldn't drink anymore and had to drive home, and most of the other people considering going had know idea who else if anyone was headed there as well. Ultimately, I ended up dropping a buddy off at the train station and making my way home very, very carefully.

It's really fun to just let go, find a big enough crowd to hide in and flail about like a fool. My ears are still ringing, and I can't wait until next year. Of course, when pictures and video surface, I may discover things were far different than I remembered.