Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of going to the Elizabethean Club Founders' Dinner, the social event of the season- if you're old, stodgy and white. After an elderly lady with arthritis signed myself and my date in, I had a few gin and tonics at the open bar. This was also the time in which hors d'ouerves were served, which led to some great interactions:
Drunken me: What're those?
Black waiter: These are stuffed mushrooms, sir.
Drunken me (after eating one): Ugh, these are terrible. Send over the guy with the scallops wrapped in bacon.
---> Anyone who tells you that there are not class divisions in America is living in a dream world.
The dinner itself was fine, not spectacular. Once dinner started, the open bar was closed, but I snuck in another gin and tonic, heavy on the gin- unfortunately, a waitress caught me pouring it out. This led to an argument:
Drunken me: So 10 minutes ago this was free but now I have to pay $5?
Waitress: Yes, the open bar is closed.
Drunken me: It's a pretty arbitrary distinction to make.
Waitress: Those are the rules.
Drunken me: That's nice. (I walk away)
As dinner progressed, some old lady made a long speech about the great Elizabethean Club history and tradition. She tried some vain attempts at "humour" but merely succeeded in confusing and boring the audience. Then came the dancing part of the evening, with Sonido Unidad playing. Those are the hardest-working guys in show business, they're everywhere. I always wonder when they're playing all this upbeat music whether they're actually sometimes depressed but have to play it anyway. Last point, when I went to the bathroom right before leaving, there was no bathroom attendant, which was surprising for such a classy place as the New Haven Lawn Club. Interactions with bathroom attendants are always awkward because I don't tip them, so he hands me a towel, dries my hands and then looks expectantly, at which point I just shrug and leave.