I’ve lost all enthusiasm about going for picnics. Today was the annual office picnic and although I have been attending these since I’ve joined, I gave this year a miss. Many people asked me why. I just didnt feel like going this year.
The funny thing is I always give this theory when people act pricey about attending social events especially when they’re expected to be present. The theory goes something like this:
There are some people (in this world) who will always say that they wont be going and the rest have to beg, plead, cajole and whine for them to finally consent. That is only if the following sentences are uttered – Come on, it will be no fun without you. Please come, it wont be the same. And so on and so forth.
Theory not applicable here, of course.
The definition of a picnic isnt a fun event for me anymore. I dont know what kind of picnics you guys go to but the ones I end up in usually involve a group of people playing cards from 10am till 5pm. Last year, the winner made about 4000 rupees by the end of the day. A worthy task indeed and much boasted about till this date. Another group of people will be dancing for approximately the same period of time, watched by The Audience who probably dont know how to play cards and dont know how to dance either, in my opinion.
And before anyone asks, I belong to the dancing category.
And there is one teetotaller who will be given the most important job of being the bartender. He will be immensely popular that day and will be everybody’s friend as long as the drinks keep coming. The moment the bar closes, he runs for his life and a commotion is guaranteed at the empty bar.
Happens every year.
Continue reading ‘It aint no picnic’
A typical wedding reception where I live includes a lot of drinking. The host actually gauges the level of a guest having a good time by the quantity of alcohol consumed by that person. And of course, there are plenty of people indulging in rambunctious laughing/talking/dancing. Naturally, the music is loud and there’s a great big, nicely decorated bar in the corner.
I dont have any problem with the above things. If people dont really care whether they have to crawl their way back home on all four limbs, that is their personal choice. What I dont like is the automatic classification of wine & women. The song, as I said before is loud and usually a racy, dance number.
The first thing people will ask me is if I’d like to drink some wine. Sometimes I’m asked for a second choice of red or white wine but thats usually the limitation for the drink offered to a woman. The rest of the guys get their whiskey, rum and what not.
I dont even like wine. That I will drink it anyway is another story.
As I looked around for other women, in the hope of spotting someone who didnt have a wine glass in her hand, I finally saw a grandma getting her glass filled with a big fat, patiala peg. After which the host diligently placed the entire bottle of brandy by her glass.
Either I will have to summon enough courage to widen the range of drink at the very beginning the next time onwards. Or I shall have to wait till I grow old till I am accepted to be a legitimate non-wine person, I think.
I am happy to say that my hangover this year was quite harmless compared to last year’s. I take it this is a sign of me being more suave in handling my drink. I do suffer from patches of amnesia only to have the puzzled look on my face being replaced by one of horror as people recounted all the things that I did/say later on. I shrugged it off saying – I dont live on yesterday while my motto is next week. A very nice Alanis Morissette song, I must say.
I remember a lot of dancing. Of course the music was so loud that I could hardly hear the other person on the phone when I called friends up to wish them at midnight. Naturally, my phone balance had dwindled down to a measly 10 rupees by the next morning. Moral of the story – ditch your phone somewhere next time you’re planning to intoxicate yourself and wont be able to make out whether you’ve been talking for 5 minutes or the last one hour.
I also remember lighting firecrackers sometime around midnight. No idea as to where they came from. Some of us had to get new hair styles the next day because of the bonfire singeing the hairline. Thankfully no one caught on fire. If anyone had, the rescuer would also have been burnt to death although the alcohol would have made sure no one felt the pain too much.
New beginning for a new year. Of course, I wont be recounting all kinds of sordid drunken details henceforth. But it was a nice way to say goodbye to a good year. Now its time to grow up.
You said, I said