The Party

 

I went to the party against my better judgement.  

I really did not want to attend.  My nerves were already fairly frayed, but I felt "obligated" to go. 

It was at the house of a faculty member, and looking at the card with the address, I was surprised that the house was actually fairly close to my own abode.  I had not realized it was only a few short blocks away.  So I decided to walk there. Slowly. I took my time.... stalling truthfully.  I patted the pocket of my coat.  Yes, I could feel my pipe, my pouch of pipe tobacco, and my lighter there.  That felt a bit comforting to me. 

I really WANTED to wear a mask.  It would have been a wonderful shield.  But, it was not that "sort" of party.  It would have only drawn more attention to myself, because I knew I would be the only one who wore one in this crowd.  

I climbed the steps and was up on the porch, and I could already hear the chatter, the noise, the music coming from inside.  I knocked perfunctorily, and then stepped inside.  The place was already crowded and a bit raucous.  Even though the lighting was dim, the central object in the living room was a keg sitting in a big washtub filled with ice.  To me, this was rather surprising to see.  The keg seemed more the type of "centerpiece" for a college dorm party, not one hosted by a faculty member.  Not really meaning to communicate my feelings, I inadvertently shrugged my shoulders as I thought to myself, "Oh well, what the hell.... I am here now.... when in Rome...".

I picked up one of the disposable glasses, and proceeded to use the tap to fill it with beer from the keg. Taking my first sip from the glass, I was surprised at the HOW especially COLD the beer was.... almost icy.... very refreshing.  I began to drink a bit more robustly as I merged myself into a circle of folks who were chatting in a very animated fashion.  This was done very purposefully, as I knew from experience that being rather quiet myself, immersing myself into a gaggle of FAR chattier folks made these sorts of situations a bit easier.... I would not have to talk much myself, and yet the conversation would still swirl around me so that my listening, watching, and observing would be perceived as still being "in a group".  I quickly finished the first glass of beer and briefly stepped out of the circle to get a refill from the keg, then proceeded back to my position in the circle. 

I kept this up, moving back-and-forth between the keg and the chatty circle, nodding my head, grinning at the jokes that were told, sporadically adding a brief word or two, here-and-there in the circle's conversation when it seemed expected of me.  After finishing my fifth glass, I glanced at my watch... it had been only a little over an hour since I had arrived.  Even though it was still early in the evening, that felt like enough time for me to be able to comfortably disengage from this noisy circle. Onto a bit more quiet, I thought to myself.  

I filled my glass again from the keg, and then meandered around a bit until I found the kitchen.  There, I saw there what I had hoped to find, the door that lead out to the backyard.  I also found amongst the folks in the kitchen was a cooler that was filled with ice and BOTTLES of beer.  I nodded at the two ladies who were talking together and sampling from the wide array of hors d'oeuvres spanning across the countertop.  I reached down, and collected one of the bottles of beer, and used the bottle opener attached on the wall to gently nudge the bottle cap off the bottle while still holding onto my cup of beer.  I grinned at the ladies as I gingerly slid the bottle into my right-side coat pocket, with the neck of the bottle standing upright out of my pocket.  I then stepped out onto the back porch.

From the porch, I could see out into the yard, and there were a few groups of people, mostly students, milling about and talking.  I walked down the steps into the patio section of the yard.  It was much more quiet outside.  The talking going on around me felt more muted, although it may simply have been due to the distance between groups, or the fact that we were not in a confined space.  But, it was nicer.  Much of the yard was lit up with lighting of various sorts.... the porch lights, an electric line ran out to a small pavilion with lighting hung in the rafters, and at several tables there were kerosene fueled lanterns glowing gently.  

I really had had enough conversation for a bit, so I saw a small bench over to the side of the yard where there weren't any clusters of people at the moment, and I walked over there and sat down.  I took my bottle of beer out of my pocket and sat it next to me as I also did with my glass of beer.  Across the way, I could see in a few of the groups of students, the glow that would occasionally occur as two or three of the kids were smoking cigarettes.

Reaching into my left coat pocket, I withdrew my pipe, pouch and lighter.  Even with my sloshy, beer-infused mind, the patterns and movements of my hands as I fussed with the pouch and filled the bowl of my pipe with crumbles of pipe tobacco was smooth, coordinated, and natural.  Only one brief spin of the flint wheel was needed on my trusty Zippo before the golden yellow flame erupted. Eagerly, I brought the flame to the bowl of my pipe and drew the flame deeply into the leaf, merging the two into a beautiful ember glowing red in the bowl.  

I drew deeply on the stem of my pipe, and after a moment or so, slowly exhaled the aromatic smoke from my nostrils.  Bliss.  I looked up into the clear sky and in the starlight, and identified a few of the constellations I knew while I continued to smoke my pipe.  

As I sat smoking my pipe in the pleasant quiet, having first finished the cup of beer and now more slowly working through the bottle of beer as well, one of the students over on the other side of the yard began to walk towards me.  We said hello, and he sat on a nearby bench perpendicular to the one I was sitting on.  He was one of the smokers from that group, and now I realized he and probably a few of the others were over there smoking marijuana.  He looked at me and offered his joint to me.  I admit I was curious, but I grinned, and gently shook my head and waved my hand, pointing to my pipe, and said, "Nah, I'm ok right now."  

We sat there for a while, and talked.  Then a few other students meandered over and we started talking as a group, me still being mostly quiet.  One girl had brought over a few more bottles of beer and offered me one of them as my own bottle had been emptied a bit before.  I mostly listened to the conversation, but did contribute some as well for the next two hours or so.  

Finally, it felt like it was probably the right time to leave for me.  I stood up, and I was admittedly more than a bit wobbly on my feet.  I guess some of the kids could see how I was less than appropriately stable of gait at the moment, and one asked me where I lived.  I told them (luckily I remembered, hah!). One girl said that she walked past that area on her way to her apartment, and she said she would walk with me to help steer me to my house. And, she did.  

* * * * *

Addendum:  The above memory was brought to my thoughts because of the New Years Eve party I did not attend this year that I am regularly invited to by a Chemist at my U.  Most chemists I know are staunchly Republican in outlook, and this fellow is no exception.  With the Covid-19 situation, I know gatherings of such as a party are unsafe, and I also know he is (although good natured and  entertaining) a person who scoffs at the safety of wearing masks and social distancing.  I have enjoyed a few of his parties in the past, but this year was a definite no-go.  

The above recollection, however, was my experience at my start of graduate school so very many decades ago.  I had only moved into my room in the house I shared with others two days prior to this party.  I was quite on edge too as classes hadn't started, and I was really unsure if I would be able to fit in.  As I was only 21 at the time, and was never much of a "partier" I had only a few drinks prior to this point and never of that quantity before.  It was very much my first time getting rather "sloshed".  It was probably not the wisest time to do so, and it was not really my intent, but it did happen that day.  

The young lady who walked me home was a second year graduate student at the time.  I am very thankful for her walking me home.  The house I lived in was amongst a large series of nearly identical homes in "student row" and having only been there for two days, and being "sloshed" I really did not know which house was really the exact one I lived in.  She helped me figure it out by finding my car parked in the back of the house, so I made it home successfully.  She was a great friend of mine throughout all of graduate school.  After graduation, she eventually moved to Northern Minnesota and I believe she is still teaching at a small, community college somewhere there. The fellow who offered me his joint was a third year graduate student at the time, and he bounced around for many years teaching and doing research at a variety of places.  Eventually, I heard he moved out to California in the 1990s when the state legalized medical marijuana.  I believe he is working for some biotech firm out there, unless he has already retired.   

PipeTobacco