The Society of Exploration Geophysicists is in town this week. Hubby is one of 'em - but he calls himself and his like-minded peers Geo-Wizards (to be cute/funny). Every year, I hear stories about convention - the parties, the freebies, the drunk escapades. Only I never get to play, b/c I'm a) not a geo-wizard and b) the convention is usually out of town and I'm not invited. But this year is different, this time I get to play. Sounded like a good thing. I had fun, but as usual, I'm scarred for life by my husband's dirty-old-men coworkers.
We go to the ice breaker at the convention center. Get free food and booze. Cool. Stand around a lot and schmooze with people I don't know. And I wore 3" heels b/c the other shoes I was going to wear were open toed, and well, my feet are in extreme need of a pedicure, and I was worried what people would think about my poor toes. Seriously, going 3 months without a pedicure and having chipped purple polish on your toes is probably a crime punishable by hanging in Texas. Thus, the closed toe, 3" heels. After being at the place and seeing the type of people who attend these things, next time, I'll opt for the comfy shoes.
So, ice breaker is done at 8. We're being kicked out. Word on the street is that my friend's company is having a party a few blocks away. Free food and booze again! Yay! So, we all walk over there (yes, my feet were killing me. no, I didn't take them off for the walk), get inside and get a huge table in the back for our group.
Group consisted of Will's co-workers, who are mostly normal and very nice people who happen to drink a lot (except for the 2 dirty-old-men who are VERY drunk) and other friends and friends of friends.
Throughout the night, dirty-old-man co-worker #1 is repeatedly referring to me (in his drunken british accent) as a dahhhhling girrrl. I kept telling him that he just didn't know me well enough to know any better. So, I ended up sitting next to him for a bit. And I swear he was staring at my chest. So, I look down to make sure my shirt is in place and my bra isn't exposed, and he catches me and asks me very slurrily "were you looking at your boobs? you were looking at your boobs, I saw you!" Yeah, thanks for that buddy. Please go away now.
Then there's the drunken cowoker #2 who is nice when he's sober and turns into a dirty-old man when he's drunk. He's not so much dirty as he is cheeky. And likes to arm wrestle everyone. Its a running joke from one night a year ago that he's kissed me on the lips not once, but twice. Same trick, and I fell for it. So, I was relaying this story to someone else at the table last night. Then later on, Cheeky kissed me again. How I can fall for this repeatedly is beyond me. And why me? Really. At least the whole table got a good laugh out of the deal.
So, its then 11:30. My friend (hosting the party) is drunk, which, yay! The girl has 2 kids under the age of three. She deserves a good buzz once in a while. Its time to leave, which is a good thing for all involved. We're standing outside the restaurant trying to figure out our game plan (because simply walking back to our cars is just too complicated). Then a homeless dude shows up and Cheeky starts chatting with him. The rest of us stroll down the block, hoping Cheeky will see us and follow. Nope. None of the guys are willing to get Cheeky away from homeless dude so we can leave. So, its up to me. In my 3" heels, I have to grab Cheeky (who was having a very detailed conversation with the guy and exchanging email addresses or something, I really am not sure) and drag him away. Me. I laughed at the irony. But I wanted to leave and this was the most direct way about it. Then we all walked arm in arm to our cars. Hubby and I drove home. I got home and scrubbed all of Cheeky's cooties off of me and went to sleep.
Makes you want to play with geo-wizards doesn't it? Yeeahhh, me too.* Hey, at least the wine was free!
*Actually, they are fun people. I just need to remember to watch out for Cheeky and his drunken attacks.