The Christmas Party

Went to the Christmas party at my freelance company last night. My son went too, with his group of half-a-dozen interns.
At first, before I got there, I felt like kind of a traitor -- and an interloper.
How many Christmas parties had I done at my last company? A dozen? I mean, that's the Christmas party I went to for years.
And then, do I really belong at this company's Christmas party? I'm only guaranteed a couple days of work a week these days, although this month because of vacations, I've gotten twice that.
Is that Christmas Party-worth?
But it's a friendly, young office, and everyone was asking who was going, encouraging people to go. And the interns were definitely going -- free drinks on a Friday night? -- so yeah, why not?
What a fun party.
So much better than the mostly dreary affairs at my old newspaper, where careers were more on the agenda than fun.
Maybe it's because I don't really care anymore. Not sure.
Or maybe they just know how to throw a good party here.
Anyway, it was a d.j.-hosted event with a dance floor in central London -- and I think the bar was free all night.
First good thing.
Dancing and drinking in a cool bar near work on a Friday night.
At my newspaper, the Christmas party was always held on a Sunday afternoon right before Christmas at someone's house.
Can you imagine a worse time?
Two Sundays before Christmas, you gotta give over a Sunday afternoon to work?
And then, it was almost always pot-luck, so you also had to bring something too -- and worry about that.
They divided it up -- some people brought appetizers, some desserts, main course dishes, drinks, the whole thing.
And then stand around and talk to each other for a couple awkward hours when everyone wanted -- and actually needed at that time of year -- to be somewhere else doing something else.
Lots of career-tuning going on, too, since the big bosses always showed up.
And then everyone encouraged to bring their spouses, all of whom felt pretty out of place, usually knowing no one.
Not that much fun usually.
Back to this Christmas party.
Started right after work on a Friday night. Good time. Everyone in the mood.
Still three weeks until Christmas. Nobody gave a shit about Christmas. Also good.
Free bar, and some finger food, so restricted to company employees. Spouses and significant others not invited. Also good, although dangerous with enough booze. But definitely entertaining to watch.
Lots of very attractive young girls work at this television company I'm freelancing at. I'm talking some real beauties. And the men, much much fewer in number, seem mostly to be married.
And British Christmas parties, I'm learning, are all about getting drunk -- and verging over into the inappropriate.
So, especially for a voyeur like me, REALLY entertaining to watch.
It was good to have my son there, so I could go and hang out with him and his intern group now and again. They're all a gas, all in their mid-twenties, all fresh, cute and smart.
Weird, though, too, in a way, to have him there. Have never been to a dancing/drinking party with my son actually. Fun to watch him too.
Everyone danced. Drank. Some did karaoke. All fun.
At one point, I was standing around with my son and his group, standing next to my son at that point (I didn't hang out with him much, but at that moment, I was), and he had his arm casually on my shoulder and I was looking up at him (he's really tall). We were all laughing.
One of the key women at the company came up to me later, a bit tipsy, put her arm around me, and whispered, conspiratorially: "Daniela, don't go the intern route. It doesn't lead to anywhere good."
It took me, also tipsy at that point, a minute to figure out what she was saying.
Then it hit me. She thought I was hitting on my son. Had no idea he was my son.
Most people in the big room that is the office there know by now, but this woman hadn't been around much lately, traveling probably, and had just come back that day after a few weeks, I had noticed. She's someone you notice.
Her comment: Priceless. Pee-in-your-pants funny.
Especially after a few drinks.