I was surfing around the InterNations site and found that there was an event scheduled for June 9, so I invited this kid from work (same offender from "You WHAT?", given a chance to behave himself). Originally, he actually invited ME to a party before I could even fully finish my sentence about InterNations, so we merged our plans and developed the itinerary to go to my event first (which was early) and his friends' joint birthday party after, since no self respecting party would get swingin' much before 10 anyway.
But what was I wearing?!?! My mom gave me a lovely silk vintage sheath dress from Hong Kong that she inherited from a friend: darkest midnight silk with a print of gold, bright green, and russet flowers on it, and an unusual split skirt in the front that revealed a swath of deep, burnished gold silk-satin.I paired this with gold sandals that had large stones in the same smoky grey-blue as the dress, and I was good to go.
Sat night "dawned" and Risky Business asked me if we could go to my event a little late, since he was wrapped up in Family Business. Sure, that's fine. 8 it is. At the *crack* of 8.30 a yellow cab screeches up and we pile in to start the adventure of a lifetime: Trying to Find the Goddamn Place. Almost a hour of wandering around getting sweaty, giggling semi-hysterically at our plight, calling various friends and family members for help, taking 3 cabs, more wandering, asking no less than 4 security guards for help (and not really getting it-- "There was a "segunda" ("I'm not sure") in there" Risky Business intones mournfully as one security guard squints and gestures into the Wild West that is Makati Central) we finally pull up at the HARDEST TO FIND LOCATION EVER, One Roxas Blvd. Seriously, this place might have well been on "Bob's Alley, second door from the right, make a left at the pinecone", because it was SUPER ill placed.
The place itself was lovely- a sort of convention room thingie with a spectacular pool and deck (which was cloaked in darkness and had been for several hours when we got there) and a slightly less spectacular function hall/ main area.
The party was in full swing when we arrived, immersed in something that, after a few tries, I managed to make Risky Business (my date) understand: The "mingling"---that IS the party. There is no sit down and eat, no cards, and no group of men staring manfully and silently as one guy repairs something, drunk as a skunk. The event was a cocktailish meet and greet, where the purpose was to...mingle.
My date acquitted himself well, drinking beer but not too much, hanging back instead of hanging all over someone's neck, smiling at people and chatting with whoever I was talking to. In short, a miracle date. I didn't have to "babysit" him, and considering that he had little to no experience in this sort of thing, I was pretty impressed. We met up with this very unusual person, a tall, thin, slightly stooped Indian (he's actually Pakastani, but that makes people think of Afghanis, which he is not, he's a Hindu who was "caught" in the partition and repatriated to be born here in the Philippines.) who was touting his own self published book of short stories, he was actually a rather interesting conversationalist. I spent most of the time trying to convince him how awesome Richard Brautigan (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Brautigan) is, and he was trying to make me read his book on his smart phone. After we settled down a bit, my date, me and Havesh (that's the author) told war stories about tattoos and other wild adventures, and clinked glasses like old bar buddies.
Then it was off to the after party at Buddah Bar. If you've ever seen Sex and the City season 4 where Carrie goes to "Tao", that's what this place is like: Huge, high ceilings, waitresses in chegongs, (sp?), exotic cocktails and spicy Bang Bang Shrimp nibbles, chairs that look gorgeous and are about as comfortable as a hospital examining table, the whole works. My date and I huddled at the bar and chatted, having (I think! It's hard to tell sometimes with Filipinos) a grand old time just drinking and talking. Then the big boys arrived and we were beckoned over to sit at the Grownups Table, where we just lounged and chatted. Other than Havesh, my date was the only non-white there. One lady turned to her seatmate, half including my date in her musings "He doesn't really look like a local. What are you, honey?" (It's true that my date has a very unusual face for a Filipino- sharp, with strongly cantilevered lines- and two little commas around his downturned mouth like Jeremy Irons). He took it well, joking that he's probably Nepali, while I was frozen in mortification: "Uh, guys? He's not a cigar store Indian. He can HEAR YOU! He's right here!" Sigh.
After that it was home, since Risky Business had a fever, and had been champing it out the whole night, so we skipped the other party. He also admitted that he really couldn't show up in a button down and a scarf, he'd be laughed out of the barrio, to which I scoffed that he should be able to show up in a speedo and a tiara if he liked, these were his friends, and he gave me the Patented Risky Business Withering Stare of Get With It, Whitey. So that was that! Effusive thanks followed, on Monday AM upon arrival in the office (from my date, who was fully recovered and full of beans) as well as connections on the InterNations site, as well as FB.
Success!
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