Christmas Eve 2009 was spent at a dinner party on island held by “The Host.”
What can I say about it my lovelies other than it was the most BORING and the most LONGEST dinner party I have ever attended.
To review:
I did one last mirror check, strapped on silver colored stilettos and was ready. Valentina took my hand.
VALENTINA: Before we go let us bow our heads and pray. Holy Mother Mary of God, bless and protect our sinuses from Bug Lady.
ME: Amen.
Winter Vaycay continues.......
We were almost out of the bedroom when Valentina stopped dead in her tracks. “Tell daddy you’re feeling sick and you don’t feel like going to the party tonight.” “I’m in the same boat as you are,” I explained. “I’m not exactly jumping up and down for joy. We’re here, we have to at least make an appearance so let’s just make the best of it....and God willing time will go quickly.” “Fine but I warn you, I can’t be responsible for my actions tonight,” she said back.
I didn’t blame her asking me to fake an illness. Did I want to go to the party? Truthfully?.....No. The Host was a friend of my mom’s so I guess you can say I really go in her place but if memory serves me correct I do recall her skipping out on one or two parties herself. Before the 3 of us left Valentina’s daddy gave her “the look.” A “look” that meant “behave yourself.” Valentina batted her pretty lashes and smiled. Believe me that’s never a good thing.
{Me in my Christmas Eve dinner dress}
We were greeted by “The Host” and her husband. What I would have given to have a cold at that moment - a stuffed nose would have been perfect - anything to avoid inhaling her perfume but thankfully the greet was very quick-quick. It was hug-hug, kiss-kiss and that was that. I knew I wouldn’t be getting off that easy. Later on “The Host” would be making her rounds by visiting each guest one by one and chit chatting with them as she always did at these soirees of hers. I hadn’t seen her since April 2008 and couldn’t believe how much she had changed, her face in particular. I barely recognized her. What did she do? Stick her finger into an electrical socket? I’ll explain what I mean by that shortly. We made our way into the main room where the other guests who had arrived before us were. An 8 foot high artificial Christmas tree decorated with nothing but gold ribbons and gold ornaments stood in the center of the room and underneath a nativity scene, complete with the 3 Wise Men, the stable boy and the donkey. I saw several familiar faces and out of them all were two I was very pleased to see: Valentina’s cousin and good friend “Gilligan.” The four of us found a cozy place to sit, on two love seats facing each other. I sat beside Valentina and cousin sat beside Gilligan. A glass table with wrought iron legs separated us. On top, an arrangement of poinsettias and long swirly green candles that had not been lighted. Immediately after sitting down a uniformed waiter swung by with a tray of hors-d’oeuvres while another waiter set 4 champagne flutes down along with a bucket of champagne on ice. He popped the cork and began pouring. {It was very sparkly and I assume it was delicious} I put my hand over mine to indicate I wouldn’t be drinking. “She can’t drink,” stated Valentina. “She just got out of the Betty Ford clinic.” The waiter asked if he could bring me anything non-alcoholic from the bar. “A Coca-Cola will be fine, thank you,” I replied. Over there you must say “Coca-Cola” and not Coke. For some reason they don’t understand what you mean when you say “Coke.” He picked up my glass and left. In regards to the Betty Ford joke I gave Valentina “the look” after all I have it pretty much down pack since I receive “the look” myself at least once a week from my sister. She just shrugged her shoulders and repeated to me what she said earlier, “I warned you, I can’t be responsible for my actions tonight.” Oh boy this was going to be one hell of a long night, I thought to myself. When the waiter returned with my drink, the 4 of us cheerfully clinked our glasses.“SALUD!!” After, I asked Valentina what happened to the host’s face. “She had a face lift.” “By whom? Dr. Frankenstein?” I said back. It was awful. Her facial expression was as if she was in a permanent state of shock. Her face was so pulled far back that when she spoke her lips barely moved. If it wasn’t for the dreadful stench of her perfume I would have never known it was her.
Upon arrival each guest was given a program highlighting the events of the night. On black stiff stationary and written in gold embossed calligraphy at the top: “Welcome To A Night In Italy.” Hmm, I was confused. We were at a Christmas Eve dinner party in the Caribbean with an Italian theme? I continued reading..... Cocktails and Hors-d’oeuvres ....which is around the time we showed up. Hey, the party even came with several forms of entertainment which was something “The Host” had never done before. Usually a classical musician is in one corner quietly playing. I began to read the entertainment section of the program out loud: “A 35 minute sitar solo performance followed by a - ” “Back up a second. Say that again?” requested cousin. “A 35 minute sitar solo performance,” I said. Valentina released a painful sounding moan. Cousin set down his drink on the table. “How does a sitar performance fit in with a Night In Italy?” he asked. “I suppose the same way having an Italian feast in the Caribbean does,” I answered back. {I honestly didn't know but he raised a good a question. A sitar player? Seriously?} I continued. “After the sitar performance we have the pleasure of listening to someone sing an opera solo. Wow what a fun night this is going to be,” I commented. “You’re joking about the opera solo?” “I wish I was,” I replied to Valentina. “Look, it’s written right here in black and gold. See?” Looking at it she remarked she was going to need something a lot stronger than champagne to get through the night. Following the opera solo, a live re-enactment from William Shakespeare’s A Merchant In Venice. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What kind of Christmas Eve Party is this?” I questioned. “A defective one,” cousin responded. I don’t know why I keep calling it a “party.” It was anything but that. As I continued reading Valentina elbowed me and said to look up. I lifted my eyes up from the program and oh my God.......
To Be Continued....
XOXOXOXO,
Cocaine Princess
