October 22, 2004

WLUSU’s exclusive parties are much like board meetings — bearable only when they involve alcohol. I went to Wilf’s Grand Re-Opening party intending to stand on a barstool and profess my love for everyone. But I changed my mind as soon as I saw the party: disjointed groups shuffled uncomfortably around the appetizers; people looked solemn; the music was deep and mournful.

I decided to get drunk and to grope people later in the evening. The wine was good; the beer left me tingling. I kept walking around the room admiring the extensive renovations Wilf’s underwent. Boredom gnawed at my insides, and I bled from my ears.

And then, just as I was considering going away, Jen came in the room and I immediately pounced on her. Together we laughed marvellously: she told me stories about Bob Rae and breasts; I told her how I love my Martha. And after endless talk and free drinks, I once more felt the urge to stand on my barstool. “Jen, you’re wonderful!” I would have shouted, but I liked her too well to publicly embarrass her.

Besides, the bar stopped serving free drinks.