The first 5 minutes at a house party where you don’t know anyone are crucial. You want to choose a smile that conveys a warm, non-threatening nature while maintaining a certain edge, which lets people know you are a mysterious sex machine. I often botch this look and produce an undesirable result, something in between medicated and the forced smile you use watching your friend in a terrible play. Despite my facial blunders, I still carry enough confidence from years of house partying to navigate with authority. You may catch me euro two stepping in the living room asking a girl what her go-to move is. Or maybe I’m in the kitchen, whipping up a terrible cocktail talking sport with the resident bro. I may even brazenly strike upstairs to use the host’s private bathroom. With all my bravado one might assume there is no party situation that fazes me. Wrong. One element of modern adult partying remains, which, can freeze, even the boldest attendee. The cocaine room.
The door opens and shuts quickly. Pretty little creatures shuffle in and out giggling with wide eyes. You can only catch a glimpse for secrecy is paramount. Except that everyone in the fucking party knows what’s going on in that room! Yet you wouldn’t dare step foot inside without an invitation or an 8 ball. Like its exclusionary predecessors, the cocaine room creates jealousy, curiosity, and resentment and ultimately divides. Even if you don’t do drugs, you’re left to wonder what exactly is going on in there. Who is in there and why were they chosen? Clearly those with the cocaine are the prized guests, but what do you have to do, or wear or say to be one of the coke advisors that get the nod?
I’ve always found it fascinating that people, especially in the privacy of a home, are paranoid about people watching them do drugs. No one bats an eye at a dude chugging a beer, even if we know that will lead him down a dark path to becoming a drunk asshole. Often people have no problem telling you they are high once it’s in their system, but god forbid you should see them do a bump off the keys to their Honda.
I made the mistake of entering unannounced one time and it was the worst. It’s like a combination of the “seat’s taken” bus scene in Forrest Gump and the first day at your High School cafeteria. There were no Jennys with hearts of gold in this room, just attractive weirdoes who wanted me to leave.
Very Serious Barista 