Tis the season for holiday parties, which means that the “wannabe” sociologist in me comes to the forefront. One gets to view his work brethren (and significant other of said person) in an entirely different atmosphere. I truly believe that a good deal may be gleaned about what makes the person truly tick. And let me tell you, there was one item this past weekend that stood out.
In my opinion, certain items need to be inferred from the party invitation as to what is going to be socially acceptable for the upcoming gathering. These items could include such nuggets as to whether children are invited, what gay apparel to don (depending on the class of the restaurant), whether alcohol is to be brought or provided, and so on.
At one of the two parties I attended this past weekend (I know, what a hipster I am!), all signs led to a child friendly gathering. It was a late afternoon start time, at the house of someone with a pre-k toddler, with an advertised “minimalist” selection of booze. It was even noted that there were at least two play areas set up for the children to enjoy while the adults regaled one another with stories of work induced woe.
It was not long past arriving that I was covertly asked by another partygoer if I had spotted the “little baby.” As I had deduced correctly (spatially speaking at least), the baby approximated the size of a football. The mother was carrying the tyke on her shoulder while starting to nibble herself on the spread presented in the kitchen. Well, soon thereafter I found myself being rudely elbowed in the ribcage area for peering out from the breakfast nook into the living room where a youngin’ was stumbling around dressed in her Christmas colours. “Don’t look in there” was whispered in my ear from the elbower. I defended my right to look in there, saying that there was a tyke running around. “No, the mother is in there breastfeeding.” “What?” I stupidly retorted which led to me now being retold about the feeding frenzy. Thankfully, I had glanced over my left shoulder, which limited my peripheral vision and precluding me from witnessing the deed going on in the corner.
Two days later, I still shake my head in disbelief at this. It has to be at least a 2500 sq.foot home. You are telling me that she couldn’t find a bathroom, bedroom, study, chimney flue, ANYTHING more private to perform that act? I have no care as to how natural that is; it may have been the single rudest act I have seen in public! I can not, and I have tried, to find one reason to defend her for whipping out one of those flapjacks in front of people she does not know. In fact, she should have to go around beforehand and show everyone at the party if she really feels the need to have her calf gnaw at her mammary while there. Although, I did learn later that she was a graduate of Michigan State. So, she is probably used to exhibiting that behaviour at parties.
Politely yours, -Michael