The Work Christmas Party

There are two types of people in this world, those that look forward to the School Christmas party for 12 months, and those that dread it. I am the latter, so is Harry. When he found out that families were not invited to the schools party, he added that to his lost of reasons why we can never leave Spain, tried to look sad and said, he was very very dissapointed that he could not join me in the fun. Great, that makes an already bad scene for me even worse, now I have absolutely no one to talk to there as I try to hide in the corner. I am at my best socially (which is never that good) in groups of two or three, five works in a stretch, but a work party always involves sitting at a table with 10 plus, most of which I do not know, because again, I am not my most social at work,, I mean its WORK?!? I am of the mind that I am supposed to be working when I am there.. so you see I am not really the water cooler, coffee break sort, which I recognize is in many ways an anti-social characteristic, but I think I am too old to change.

Now, please, do not in any way get me wrong. I work with great people, on first impressions, which is all I really have because of aforementioned reasons they seem really nice. But in large groups, with an open bar and the thought of no work for 3 weeks, oh and an organized bus ride to take us all home. I will stop there, I am sure you get the picture.

It started out well enough, a nice glass of wine as we walked in the door, but then we had a random prize giving, and tequilla, vodka and whisky were among the prizes. I highly doubt any of these prizes made it home. As I sat suffering through yet another Spainish attempt at vegetarian meals, luckly this one not involving fish or chicken, but rather a big plate of raw, unspiced tofu and TRYING oh so unsuccessfully to build that little conversation corner of 3-4 people that I need to be able to feel comfortable enough to speak, the woman accross from me realised the balloons on the table were filled with helium. This started several people on our table dismantling the centerpiece in order to sing jingle bells with the voice of a mouse, amusing? It only went down hill from there, after being peer pressured into a tequilla shot, I was then asked to dance, in a brightly lit room at 3 in the afternoon, to a song I had never heard of and wasn't particularly feeling, by my boss. I can not say no can I? Again, he was trying to bring anti-social me into the meele, but I remained firmly the stick in the mud. As everyone got up on the dance floor, one of the maintence staff began to strip, with cheers all around. I took that as my oportunity to run away, without saying goodbye. So rude, I know, but I just can not deal.

But just when I thought I was free...

Did I mention where the party was? Again, it was at one of those places that you either love or hate. Luxery pure, a golf resort community. We were at the main club house of the resort, with gold greens all around, luxery homes, holiday allotments to rent in pure disney world fashion. I am one of the haters or these built communities. AND I was lost in it. As I tried to escape I drove past horse jumping arenas, men in golf carts, driving ranges, swimming pools, house after house of multimillion dollar homes, owned by the beautiful people, and all I could think, was get me out of here, what a prision. I couldn't escape, not the party, not the place, trapped.

Thirty minutes later, as the panic subsided I found the exit, by using a multitude of different strategies I found an exit, it wasn't the one that I wanted but it got me out. But more than that I had come to accept my fate. I will have to go through another Christmas party again next year, like finding the exit to golfers paradise, I definetly need a new strategy.