The ghosts of Christmas Parties past

I went to Party Guy's company Christmas party with him. Almost everyone he worked with was older than him, which is to say, WAY older than me.

I wore a top straight out of 1993, because, well, it was 1993. The bottom half of it was sheer fabric. I could get away with it because I had the flat stomach of a 19 year old, and because I also had the mistaken impression that it was less see-thru than it was. I got inappropriately hammered - did I mention I was 19? Later Party Guy informed me, rather acerbically, that during a rousing turn of "Shout!" (Lift your hands up!) on the dance floor, I had been flashing everyone my black lacy bra.

Well. No wonder I was so popular at that party.


During the years I worked in restaurants, we never had Christmas parties at Christmas. Because everyone ELSE was having their Christmas parties and we were too busy. So we had them in February. They were almost always 'themed'. One year we did air bands. Four of us choreographed a dance routine to ABBA. I wore my Leggy Blonde costume.

We didn't win for the routine, but I won for the skintight red dress with the slit up to my hipbone.

What? I said it was my Leggy Blonde costume.


While dating Pilot Boy I attended a few of his Christmas parties. For one of them he worked for a company that had its main offices in another city, and we flew there for the party, which was in the banquet hall of a hotel.

He expressed regret for choosing to sit where we did. He thought the drunken antics of the other people at the table would reflect badly on him. I thought they were the most fun people there. He made us move anyway.

I latched on to the most interesting person at our new table, who looked a little frightened when I proclaimed us to be BFFs and dug up a pen to write my phone number on her hand.

Later, joking around, he piggy-backed me up to our hotel room. The key card wasn't working so, unthinking, he bent down to inspect it, slamming my head into the door frame and knocking me unconscious for a few seconds.

He put me in bed to sleep and went back to the party. In the morning I had to lay on the floor of the plane as we drove home, I was so ill from the combined hangover and concussion.

Pretty sure I hadn't flashed anyone my bra though.


Years ago, at the company I am with now, we organized a video scavenger hunt, broke out into teams, and drew straws to see which poor souls had designated driver duty. Then we roamed the city filming our 'items' and stopping at every bar we saw for shooters. We gathered at the boss' house for more drinks and watched all the hunts. The boss' wife kicked us all out in annoyance at 4 or 5am.

This year, the same company took us for dinner on a Thursday night at a local pub, and gave us a $50 gift card each lest we get out of hand on the company dime. I was home by 9:30.

Aannndd...I'm okay with that. Man, I'm old.