The Attack of Party Man

It is two-thirty o'clock on a Saturday afternoon at the Evans Street Household. The X-box is dishing up merciless attacks on the foul-mouthed (and slightly aggressive) citizens of  "Liberty City" in the form of reckless high speed driving and the odd "dangerous dive". A "dangerous dive" is when you catch a taxi down to the heliport, hijack a helicopter, fly to maximum height, name a target, and then launch yourself out of the pilot's seat. That is the dangerous bit. Of course, the dive bit implies that if you as long as you land on water in this game, you'll survive the massive free-fall. Thus, the entire 'dangerous dive" experience aims at trying to land in fountains or backyard swimming pools. The most breath-taking dives can be done between the spans of twin bridges, however there is a high percentage chance that a steel cable could get in the way.

As this repetitive but endlessly amusing process is taking place, Lucas tells me that there is a surprise  party taking place this very evening for our friend Dave.

"How many people will be there, man?", I ask Lucas - my brain whirling at the thoughts of a crazy, pumping party with hundreds of invited guests squeezing for space whilst dancing as one to some form of ultra powerful bass woofer.

"Oh, I don't know - his close friends. Maybe 20", Lucas responds - his eyes narrowing as my eyeballs roll to the back of my head as my imagination screams to a grinding halt.

"Hmm, we're going to need booze. There's beers in the fridge but maybe we should take something a little more classier. Say, some spirits", I chime.

"Uhh, I'm pretty tired. I don't think I feel like drinking too much tonight. I guess we could get some whiskey though", responds Lucas.

I pause, looking for some form of reasonable response. "Hey man, we don't have to drink it all. We're adults. We can just have a few drinks and then leave the party early and bring the bottle home for another day".

And this is where expectations are established. Despite a lengthy debate that followed soon after this statement where both Lucas and I recalled the many situations over the years where we have bought spirits and polished them off in a single sitting, we both encourage each other by repeating "yeah, we're adults. We can moderate our alcohol".

However, some time in between this mutual, "let's-not-get-too-crazy-tonight" party-pact and returning back home from the bottle shop, something changed within us both. The minute we walked back in the door (with the full knowledge that a taxi has been ordered and well on it's way to collect us), we discuss having a good sized, cheeky shot to get us into the party mood. Thus, as the taxi arrived out the front and tooted the horn - we were downing the first, hefty shot of Canadian Club.

By the time we arrive at the party residence, Lucas and I have worked up a thirst. We're the first guests to arrive and we offer a hand in the kitchen before realising that it's a dress up party and the theme is "Dave". Thus, after a visit to Dave's cupboard (he's at the cinema being distracted by a friend), Lucas and I have costumes. I am wearing Dave's grey waistcoat, his red and yellow ray ban sunglasses and some form of strange hunting cap. I am trying to be Dave. Lucas dons a small hat found on Dave's cupboard top shelf and is dissatisfied with his decision. This is when we are asked to taste some shots that the household plan to dish up to all the guests when they arrive. Three shots of various tastes, one pleasant, the other two... a bit iffy.

None the less, the bottle of Canadian Club started to pour. The first two drinks were small servings of spirits and a generous swerving of cola. After about half an hour, Lucas and I were well into the last third of the bottle. We'd pour mixes for each other that were ruthlessly strong. Our pledge to each other had failed, and we were both well on our way.

Needless to say, by the time that Dave actually arrived at his party - an hour and a half after we turned up - the Canadian Club was all gone. This was only the beginning, as "Party Man" had not yet arrived.

This by all means was a lovely party. Maybe about 25 people, all friends from Dave's life but from different circles. It was a good opportunity to meet new people and have a good chat. Unfortunately, after half a bottle, I started to get louder and more crazy with my humour. Nothing distasteful, but I do like to put on a funny show when I've had a few under my belt. The gags were well received and everything was going fine. Lucas and I were existing on people's hand-me-down liquor, mixing up some pretty hairy concoctions in the process.

Dave's lovely partner was wearing a superman costume for the party, and she had painted a black mask on her face with some face paint. I became fascinated by this mask and asked if I could have one too. Thus, as the mask was drawn upon my face, a distant cosmic explosion dislodged several tonnes of highly concentrated nitrous oxide gas and sent it hurtling through space at such a rate that a few atoms survived the collision with the Earth's atmosphere and ended up being directly injected up my nose. Once my mask was complete, I had transformed into "Party Man".

Party Man unveiled

Now Party Man is a super hero, showing everyone how "cool" you can be if you get totally smashed and talk some seriously silly nonsense. However, before you become excited you need to know that Party Man at this particular occasion was not the best ambassador for his cause. 

Party Man feels the power

Usually, Party Man whips the most the most casual parties into raging moshpits of cerebellum survival. His tactics usually always get those who are restraining themselves from insanity up and standing. There are always people at parties who'd really like to throw sensibility into the air and let go, but usually just sit there acting meek and mild. Party man can sense this ruse. All these sorts of people usually need is a little encouragement and a few of Party Man's relentless and nonsensical party-oriented statements. "you can do it", or "the power is within" are his usual catch cries. 

 Party Man gets the party rocking

Party Man also has amazing stamina and his super ability of raging all night long that cannot be met by most mortals. The only downside to this amazing Herculean party energy is that it fades extremely quickly upon the first signs of sunlight and Party Man vanishes, turning back into normal ol' Chris. 

Now, during the evening, Party Man broke up an argument between two young men and got them to shake hands and respect each other's right to fair speech. Party Man also walked Ladies to their taxis whilst uttering not one word of sense, yet remaining totally professional. Party man even cleared some dishes to make room for shot glasses and not very graceful cocktail conctoctions (Captain Morgan and lemonade, anyone?) Party Man could have kept on kicking for many more hours until...

"Ahh man, I have to go home, I'm exhausted", Lucas mentioned after finding me out on the street waiting for a street car that for all good reasons would never eventually appear.

"Ohh mannnnn. But it's only one-thirty in the morning. It's so early. You can do it! You can do it!", Party Man responded with a charismatic, cheeky grin.

"No. I'm done", replied Lucas - who was definitely suffering from fatigue. "It's time to go home".

Party Man gulped. He looked around the empty street and realised that whilst in his haze of party right-doings, the party had indeed wound down and was potentially on it's way out. Party man paused, confused. He reflected on his prime objectives and couldn't understand how he could leave a party that was about to die. It was his duty to give oxygen to the fires of celebration and get everyone up out of their comfortable arm chairs and back into the warm embrace of insanity.

 

 Party Man battles with his inner-conscience.

And it was with this thought that Party Man vanished, leaving me standing cold and confused on a dark street in Paddington, wearing some crazy eye-makeup and hanging out with an old mate who needed to get home for bed. Rationality seeped from somewhere deep inside my mind, an echo from the distant past and collided with the few on-duty braincells that could report for active duty.

Home called, and thus I arrived back there - all wobbly legged. I scrambled for bed, but when I was lying down the room would spin and my stomach would turn. It was a mad moment, drifting off to sleep and nausea tickling at the back of my throat.

Without any sick-making activities, I awoke in the following morning feeling very chirpy, however as the day continued, I became more unravelled. I couldn't even make it over to see my dear Mum for Mother's Day. I had failed as a son and as a human being. I had failed my kidneys and liver. So much pressure that wasn't there yesterday suddenly filled my peaceful void. Party Man had once again, and left my brain a dry, wheezing husk of grey matter. He should have never been invoked, but alas he was. It's a cruel world being his alter-ego.

Thanks for nothing, Party Man.