Another May Party

My mind recently flashed back to a legendary party of long ago. This reminder was prompted by a question from my good friend, who is turning out to be an excellent party planner. She asked me to describe the perfect party and instantly May 5, 1973, came to mind.

I lived in a group house with 4 other women, one guy, and assorted random other people from time to time in a wealthy part of DC. We were all in our mid-20's. We were all somewhat poor, working on starting salaries (mine was $9,300 a year). But we never worried about money and a high priority was eating, drinking, and having a good time.

At that time Nard's (run by a guy named Nardello) was a DJ company specializing in oldies that regularly played in places like Whitby's and Hawk and Dove. We hired Nard's for our party and our back yard became the dance floor.

We carefully canvassed the neighborhood ahead of time, asking these upper class people to call us before they called the cops. Among these neighbors were Art Buchwald and Congressman Jim Symington. We as renters were a definite novelty in Wesley Heights. They all smiled and agreed, probably remembering such parties at an earlier era in their lives.

I never remember thinking about the possibility of rain. How could anyone dare rain on our party? And of course the weather was perfect.

I don't remember food as a high priority. I'm sure there were enormous quantities of chips and other junk food and I do remember making my mother's onion dip. There was no shortage of things to drink, most on the alcoholic side.

David came to the party with his hair hanging down to his shoulders. At that point, he was just another work friend. I think he brought the bottle of gin that rendered him the drunkest I have ever seen him.

But meanwhile we danced to the music of Nard's, making our requests for those songs we held so dear. And we danced for hours, taking up money to extend their contract. That's when I first realized just how much David loved Higher and Higher by Jackie Wilson. (Maybe that's our song, Aileen.)

At one point a DC cop did show up. My very capable roommate Dick invited him in, steering him clear of the room where a lot of "smoking" was going on. He was only too happy to have a drink and leave us alone.

David's "higher and higher" finally crashed around 2:00 AM and I realized that he was in no shape to drive home. So our first night together was not one of ecstacy, but rather a drunken stupor as we collapsed together into my single bed. I suppose it was intimacy by definition of space. As we nursed our hangovers the next morning over glasses of orange juice and I popped by BC pill out of habit, I could see the light bulb going off in his head. Ohhh...

After a long description of the May 5 party and my desire to recreate the same atmosphere, my party planning friend said to me, "Let's see. You were 24 years old, right? Do you think anyone at your retirement party will want to dance?" Now there's a jolt back to reality. Maybe not.

If Steve were here, he would dance, but it's hard for me to picture some of my other guests on the dance floor. Maybe I should invest heavily in gin. But not for David, who turns green at the thought of drinking gin after that night.

We'll see. Do you think 50-something's would dance? Oldies? Ballroom? Swing? What type of music?