For our New Year celebration, my parents were participating in a Golf Tournament which was followed by a New Year party.
The venue was a small but challenging Golf Course, which my parents were looking forward to playing at. We would also get to meet other golfers and interact with them before the tournament officially started.
I however, was interested in only the part where I would get to enjoy New Year party. I refused to let my enthusiasm be affected by the teeny weeny little fact that it wasn’t yet December 31st, and hence, not officially a New Year’s Party.
We reached the venue early, and after the quick registration process and name tagging of the golf bags, were graciously escorted to the Welcome Lounge, where High Tea was being served. I found myself in luxurious environs and surrounded by the golfing elite. I had resolved to be on my best behaviour, even hoping to entice some handsome hunk to walk up to me and strike a conversation.
I chose a nice corner sofa and delicately perched myself on it, ignoring its groans and moans. “Hullo.” I practiced a sophisticated drawl in my mind, with a slight tilt of my head and a Mona Lisa-like smile.
Shortly after, young, uniformed boys appeared from behind a magical curtain, and swarmed around me with trays laden with attractive food and drinks.
I delicately sat on my throne and nimbly picked up the bite-sized morsels, that the waiters offered politely.
The menu consisted of some exotic delicacies like Mushroom Vol-au-Vent, Smoked Salmon, Chicken Tikka, Paneer (cottage cheese) Tikka, and Shammi Kebab.
Beverages consisted of various Juices, Soft Drinks and Alcoholic Drinks.
I was transported to another world much like Charlie in Willy Wonka land; and before you could say Hallelujah, I was sprawled on the sofa, hungrily gobbling up the scrumptious delicacies like a lifelong starved maniac.
I even tried the Jaegerbomb for the first time. It was served in a twin glass, one inside the other, each containing a separate liquid. I’d never even seen anyone drink it before, and looked around to see how others were partaking it. Unfortunately and much to my disappointment, they all had short single glasses filled with strange brown or black coloured liquids. No one would give me a free demonstration, it seemed. I finally had to ask the server how to drink it. But not to worry because shameless me had already thrown all caution and sophistication to the wind. On hearing his instructions, I picked up the twin glasses and gulped down the liquids. I handed him the empty glasses. Looking at his expression, he must have been wondering how, if it came to that, would he extract the twin glasses from the bottom of my stomach.
By now, I had even managed to lay out my own personalized buffet section at my table, with the small morsels neatly arranged in front of me.
In fact some of the guests even mistook my own separate buffet to be the actual buffet spread, only to be met with rude glares and a slap on the hand that was rapidly extending towards my food and endangering its existence. To the more daring ones, who had been complacent enough to not register my princely presence, a punch in their rotund tummy set them right.
My parents had already chosen to sit at a separate table, with other golfers. The high table and chair seating was more comfortable than the low lying sofas, they had explained. (I think it was more to disassociate themselves from my presence.)
Soon after the chef walked in to take feedback and was taken aback to see his servers stand diligently around me in royal attendance. He stopped short and surprised at him looking around open-mouthed, I turned to see what he saw. And what I saw, was that many of the guests were kissing the marble floor as they rolled from side to side, as they clutched their over-sized tummies. Nice, they are practicing the rolling Yoga asanas, I thought. Roll to left, kiss the floor, roll to right, kiss the floor!
What was strange and beyond the realm of my understanding was the weird guttural sounds they made as they kissed the floor. Had I not noticed them pucker up their lips in preparation for the kiss, I would have actually thought they were in pain.
It was quite an inspiration to watch them. I had half a mind to join them myself, hoping it would help me reduce the size of my own shapely (yes, shapely. Last I heard, round was still a shape) belly. But then the buffet spread, laid out exclusively for me, got the better of me. After all I had been given VDP (Very Dangerous Person) status, and the staff relied upon me to finish the food. Nothing would distract me or make me shirk my responsibilities.
So when I finally was done eating, I sat back and waited. For, unless and until a small burp had made its mandatory round, I wouldn’t know whether my body had received its necessary dose of nutrition or not. But I was still on my best behaviour. I waited quietly for the golfers to proceed to the golf course and achieve the purpose they had come here for – to participate in the New Year Golf Tournament.
Soon, the mayhem had subsided and I could invite Mr. Burp in peace and guilt-free. I had, by now, dismissed the service staff also.
After 20 minutes of waiting, I decided to get up and walk around just to encourage Mr. Burp to make an early appearance.
Apparently that wasn’t enough of an incentive, so I abandoned the wait and sat back down admiring the soda designs and the wall furnishings.
An hour later, I got busy reading the various magazines in the lounge when a weird noise shattered the serenity of the place.
The loud noise sounded like a blast and triggered off fire alarms and sprinkler systems. Unable to fathom where the fire was; I wondered whether to sit put or run for safety when I realized the source of the noise could be attributed to me. The noises emanating from within me had triggered the alarm bells I realized.
Mr. Burp had, very kindly, paid me a visit.
I hope your New Year parties would have been less cringe-inducing than mine. Do let me know what you did to ring in the New Year.
Wishing you an amazing 2016!