On Sunday, I posted a long meme of things I've done. One of the things was to crash a party (I mentioned that it was a sorority party). I thought I might better explain myself...
“Let me see if I got this right, if I stand in your front yard, it’s the two story house catty-cornered, right?”
“Yes, that’s it,” she said, “drop by anytime Saturday afternoon, between three and five You got to meet him.” Norma sounded more like a teenager in love than a retired teacher.
“I’ll be there,” I promised, and hung up the phone.
That Saturday afternoon I drove over to Norma’s house that sat on the corner. Sure enough, across the street was a two story house and there were a lot of cars around it so I parked, walked up and rang the doorbell.
“The door’s open, come on in,” a young woman yelled. I walked into foyer and on into the kitchen. A young woman, must be the daughter of the lady hosting the party I assumed, invited me to fix a drink. Strange, I thought to myself, I'd figured they were like most of our neighbors, Mormon, who if they drink, wouldn't be doing it publicly. But when in Rome, do as the Romans, so I poured myself a drink.
“Where’s Norma?” I asked, stirring the ice in the whiskey.
“Maybe she’s out back, at the grills,” she said, “we’re getting to put on the hamburgers.”
“Odd,” I thought to myself, “I didn’t realize we're having dinner.” I walked out onto the patio.
A couple of guys and their girls introduced themselves to me. I gave them my name and asked, “Where’s Norma and her fiancĂ©.”
“Who,” they asked jointly as if a convention of owls.
“Norma and what’s his name,” I responded. “I was invited over to this party to meet this guy.”
“There’s no Norma here," one of the blondes stated. I was getting a weird feeling as she continued, "this is a sorority party. A couple of us girl live here, off campus, so we have our parties here.”
“You got to be kidding,” I said, choking on my drink and wondering how many of these kids were under age and here I was drinking with them.
“Anybody know this couple at who’s home is having this party I’m suppose to be at?” I asked.
One did. It was catty-cornered in the other direction from Norma’s house. I chatted with them for a few minutes while I finished my drink, then borrowed some mints and headed down to Norma’s party. Sure enough, no alcohol was served there, just pink punch and some chips and sausage balls. I met what’s his name (to this day, I don’t remember his name) and told the story of me, a forty year old, being welcomed at a sorority party.
Wonder what they were saying about me after I left the sorority party?
“Let me see if I got this right, if I stand in your front yard, it’s the two story house catty-cornered, right?”
“Yes, that’s it,” she said, “drop by anytime Saturday afternoon, between three and five You got to meet him.” Norma sounded more like a teenager in love than a retired teacher.
“I’ll be there,” I promised, and hung up the phone.
That Saturday afternoon I drove over to Norma’s house that sat on the corner. Sure enough, across the street was a two story house and there were a lot of cars around it so I parked, walked up and rang the doorbell.
“The door’s open, come on in,” a young woman yelled. I walked into foyer and on into the kitchen. A young woman, must be the daughter of the lady hosting the party I assumed, invited me to fix a drink. Strange, I thought to myself, I'd figured they were like most of our neighbors, Mormon, who if they drink, wouldn't be doing it publicly. But when in Rome, do as the Romans, so I poured myself a drink.
“Where’s Norma?” I asked, stirring the ice in the whiskey.
“Maybe she’s out back, at the grills,” she said, “we’re getting to put on the hamburgers.”
“Odd,” I thought to myself, “I didn’t realize we're having dinner.” I walked out onto the patio.
A couple of guys and their girls introduced themselves to me. I gave them my name and asked, “Where’s Norma and her fiancĂ©.”
“Who,” they asked jointly as if a convention of owls.
“Norma and what’s his name,” I responded. “I was invited over to this party to meet this guy.”
“There’s no Norma here," one of the blondes stated. I was getting a weird feeling as she continued, "this is a sorority party. A couple of us girl live here, off campus, so we have our parties here.”
“You got to be kidding,” I said, choking on my drink and wondering how many of these kids were under age and here I was drinking with them.
“Anybody know this couple at who’s home is having this party I’m suppose to be at?” I asked.
One did. It was catty-cornered in the other direction from Norma’s house. I chatted with them for a few minutes while I finished my drink, then borrowed some mints and headed down to Norma’s party. Sure enough, no alcohol was served there, just pink punch and some chips and sausage balls. I met what’s his name (to this day, I don’t remember his name) and told the story of me, a forty year old, being welcomed at a sorority party.
Wonder what they were saying about me after I left the sorority party?
Heh. Likely story :)
ReplyDeleteThey probably thought you used a lame excuse to get into their party and get a drink! LOL
ReplyDeleteSure, sure...:-) Funny though.
ReplyDeleteYeah, sure . . . when I was in a sorority there was always some older guy trying to get in . . .
ReplyDelete:-)
hahaha cute! and it does sound more fun than the mormon party ...sorry.
ReplyDeletethough i'm not sure what age group these guys would be..? legal drinking age in the uk is 18 and i guess they'd be about that. nice that they were unfazed as you walked it too.
If you had your hat on, maybe they thought you were homeless and were just doing a good deed.
ReplyDeleteWell at least it didn't go on for hours before you found out about it.
ReplyDeleteHow can it be the other catty-corner? Isn't there only one catty-corner otherwise it is just across the street. I suppose unless their house takes up the entire block and in that case, they have four catty-corner houses.
If the house on the corner of a 4 way intersection, it would have two "catty-corners", wouldn't it, Ed?
ReplyDeletePoopie, Kenju, Dawn and Diane: The story is true, I'm not sure about all the dialogue except the part about Norma must be out on the patio--which I thought odd if this gathering was for her and her fiance whom she'd met on a cruise.
ReplyDeleteKeda, in the mid-80s, the drinking age in the US was raised to 21 in all states. It use to be 18 in some states (like where I was in college) but that created problems as 18 year olds from other states would drive across the state line to get drinks, so the age was raised nationally. So if you start college at 18, your first three years are supposed to be dry.
Murf, I didn' have my hat on.
Ed, her house faced the corner. The "party house" was right across the street, but there was a short block and the house of the reception was there, so it was really two houses down and across the street, if that makes sense. (Maybe I need to draw a map)
I've retired from pointing out when you don't make sense, Sage.
ReplyDeleteMurf, I'm sure your pension will be in accordance to your work.
ReplyDeleteThat won't be alot, I don't think. My pension will be much larger when I retire from picking on you. I'm not ready to quit that yet. ;-)
ReplyDeleteI believe an ASCII diagram of the neighborhood might be helpful :)
ReplyDeleteBut all this is taking away from the gist of the story... sorority girls!
This is so funny! It'd be a story I would be proud to tell even if I was embarrassed at the time. :)
ReplyDeleteHah. This is a great story. You do get into some funny adventures Sage man.
ReplyDeleteThough I like how you played it smooth and finished your drink and chatted with them. I say the kids were sad to see you go. It would have been a greater party with the Sage man.