I went to a Murder Mystery party last night. We’ve done them before and they generally turn out really well if everyone gets into character and plays it up. In the past, the games have been organized into scenes, and each person has some new information to read to themselves each scene. It might say that I need to ask Joe Blow about X this round, and that I have information Y that I want to try to keep secret. But someone else will have a card that says to ask me about Y. The trick to to make people ask the right questions to get all the information because you can’t lie, but you don’t want to volunteer information. In this type of game, everyone sits together and so everyone has the same information to work with. After all the scenes are done, everyone guesses who the murderer is.
The townhouse that we were in was absolutely beautiful. It’s the building that went up where the old A&B Sound used to be at the corner of Hastings and Cassiar, and I always thought that it must be a terrible location. However, the townhouse faces north (the only drawback) and has two floors of living space, two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, a large deck off the main floor, a small balcony off the master bedroom, and a rooftop deck with amazing 360 degree views. And because they face north, they said that traffic noise was hardly noticeable. The townhouse next door to them is up for sale, but sadly I’m not in the market to buy for another two years.
I knew there would be lots of alcohol at this party, including vodka jello shots, so I did the responsible thing and I left my car at home. My dad was a sweetheart and drove me over, and I planned to take a cab home. The thing with me, though, is that I can’t plan to get drunk very well. Every time I plan that I will be too drunk to drive and leave my car at home, I end up completely sober by the end of the night. I did drink, but I stopped well before I wanted to go home because I was just done. So there I was, sober, surrounded by my drunk friends, unable to get through to a cab company for at least an hour because I kept getting busy signals, and hitting the wall with wanting to go home. I don’t know why I get like that, but anyone who’s witnessed it knows that I change in the blink of an eye from having a great time to wanting to leave right now. And usually, I say my goodbyes and I go home, and everything is great. Last night I found myself in the situation of not being able to leave when I wanted to. I considered (briefly) walking home but I was wearing a skirt and really high heels, and I couldn’t face walking home in bare feet.
When I finally did get through to a cab company, I was on hold for about 15 minutes. Then when the dispatcher picked up and took my address, he told me the cab would be there in five minutes. Wtf? Then why was it so hard to get through in the first place? I had expected at least a 30 minute wait, so I was happy with the quick response time. My cab driver was really friendly and nice, so we chatted as he drove me home. It was a little more expensive than I had figured (just over $20 when I had guessed about $15) but I also tipped him well. I don’t know what the expected amount to tip a cabbie is, but I tipped 20% because at that point I was so grateful to be at home.
Andy of course was “starving” so I fed him in the hopes that he would let me sleep longer in the morning. No such luck – he woke me up at 7:30 wanting his breakfast. After feeding him again, I went back to bed for a couple of hours of blissful sleep. Now I’m up, had a cup of tea and considering breakfast, and planning to write a philosophy paper this afternoon. Good thing I’m not hung over!
The moral of the story, for me, is: bring your car and cab money. I have great parents who would be willing to drive me back to my car the next day if I end up leaving it somewhere. My dad thought it was great that I had planned so responsibly last night and had no problem dropping me off at the party. But at least if I have my car and I end up sober and wanting to leave, I can do it right away. Ahh, dealing with neurosis … good times.