Get The Party Started

Last night, I worked a Sweet Sixteen party at the home of some really, really rich folks.  They're so rich, I looked up how much they had to pay in property taxes a year or so ago and it said almost $128K.  What!!!!!  Anyway, the house was grand and looked dang comfortable on the inside!  The party, though, was staged in the back, though.  A tent was propped up so that heat could be pushed into the joint.  And we needed it, too, 'cause it was colder than a rich, old lady outside!  Haaa!

Anyway, the young lady celebrating her sixteenth birthday seemed sweet enough.  Her hundred plus guests were another story.  Over all, they were pretty cool, too, but there were a few of them (all boys to my knowledge) who brought alcohol AND coke!  No, not Coca Cola!  I thought, wow, fifteen and sixteen-yr-olds drinking and snorting coke!  Geez!  Everybody wants to be too hip for the room.  Although I never actually thought I witnessed anyone drinking or taking drugs, one kid---a 15-yr-old---did confess to me that he had had six shots before he arrived and six or so inside the party.  Of course, I told him he's too young for that kind of thing, but I suspect my words of caution may have fallen upon deaf ears.  Or maybe not.  Only God and he know.

By night's end, all hell broke loose when we discovered that the $500 per hour dj was tweaked out of his mind.  He was so wasted on something that he couldn't break down his elaborate setup.  So, that means, I had to do it along with the house's security staff and all the other production staff on hand.  The owner of the house even pitched in!  What!!!  I would have expected him to be livid with the dj, but he didn't seem to be.  He wasn't happy, but he didn't illustrate any of the antics I would have expected a rich and pampered person to illustrate.  No shouting.  No "I'm better than you" attitude.  He simply pitched in and helped us break down the guy's equipment.  After we had everything in the trailer, the dj, himself, wound up missing.  Say what?  Yep, he was missing.  Turns out, in his tweaked world, he had decided that someone was after him; so, he hid.  All of us scoured the tony, Beverly Hills neighborhood, looking for him.  Eventually, his nephew and I found him hiding behind a tree.  The nephew's dad was called so that he could come and drive the dj's colossal truck and trailer ('cause the nephew didn't feel comfortable driving the huge contraption) while the nephew drove the dad's car.  I left before the father arrived.  I had enough!

I wish the dj the best.  It appears his old drug demons might have made a return appearance.  Nobody deserves that kind of paranoia and feelings of imminent doom.  And God bless his nephew, Michael.  That young man truly didn't deserve the drama his uncle heaped atop him.  Heck, I almost feel kinda guilty about goin' into the kitchen to make myself a second Screwdriver for the day.  But, you know what?  I'll get over it!  :)