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Ramblin' Roses and Flyin' Bricks
Yesterday I got invited to a cocktail party in a city where I am scheduled to make my usual brilliant, thought-provoking and masterful address. Unfortunately, I'll not be able to attend and I'm actually sorry, because there's nothing quite like a cocktail party for real, high-class entertainment. Everybody has a good time at one of those affairs. Those who drink have a good time drinking and those who don't drink have a good time laughing at those who do. It works out mighty fine. The first thing a non-drinking guest should do is to manage for a tall glass of plain ginger ale and sip on it very slowly. This keeps the host or hostess from continually offering to get you a fresh drink of Scotch or bourbon. Of course, your acquaintances will see you with a drink and, not knowing what it is, will shake their heads sad-like, figuring you're starting on a first-class bender to be followed by a tragic case of the DT's. That's just something you can't help and you can't explain it to everybody. Before I go any further, though, let me say that a glass of ginger ale with ice is a powerful poor substitute for a drink. It sure ain't much of a bracer. The Small Talk The best thing about a cocktail party is the conversation. Nobody knows or cares what you're saying. If you don't believe this, the next time you go to one of those affairs and meet some woman, just say, casually like, "I got here a little late on account of I had to shoot my grandmother." Then they'll say, nine out of ten times. "How perfectly lovely! You must meet my husband. Oh, he must have walked off." Then you say, "I think I just saw him back in the kitchen kissing the cook." She'll say, "Oh, you dear boy! But really, this is an old dress I must have worn a hundred times." See what I mean? Nobody hears what you say and they could care less. A cocktail party is a pretty good place to get something to eat if you know how to manage. They pass little chopped-up sandwiches around and there ain't much to one, so you grab off a handful. Just be sure to keep one hand free for shaking purposes. It's not polite to offer your hand to a person when it's full of sticky sandwiches. Sometimes during the party you'll be offered your choice of ripe or stuffed olives. They always have olives. Be sure to take the stuffed kind, because you'll feel sort of ill at ease with a pocketful of olive seed. She Wasn't There Before the party is 20 minutes old, you'll see all the women in one section of the room and all the men will be ganged up in another section, which I never could understand. The men will be talking about politics, hunting and women. The ladies will be talking about clothes, food and women who aren't there. At the last party I went to it so happened that I got near enough to a small group of women to overhear small fragments of their conversation. They were pretty well riled up about somebody named Alice. I never did find out who Alice was, but I'm telling you she sure was getting a going over by those women. One of 'em, who had been going in more for drinks than olives and sandwiches, finally said, "To h-l with Alice!" I reckon that darn sure fixed Alice. It's hard to break up a cocktail party. The men are generally ready to go after about thirty minutes, but they can't get their wives to leave so they just take a few more drinks, after which they aren't anxious to leave either. Poor Alice! That gal should either straighten up or make arrangements to be at the next party in person.
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