I rarely stay out all night with
people. I usually become bored or tired by the time the 1 AM mark
comes around, wanting more than anything to go home to my quiet
apartment rather than spend another minute in some smokey bar where
obnoxious, loud music would be my only lullaby for the night. I'm
picky like that with my socialization, it has to be the right people
and the right place in order for me to feel comfortable and able to
forget the hours passing rather than count them down until the first
train back home. Maybe it's because I'm getting older. Maybe it's
because I'm selfish and a bad friend. Maybe I just hate partying. The
answers and their solutions could be endless, more than I have the
time to investigate or care about.
Last Saturday was a special day, the
birthday celebration of one of my friends, one of the first English
teachers I met last year, and fellow film enthusiast. From the very
beginning it was clear that her party was not intended to be an
ordinary gathering of friends, booze and headaches in the morning.
There would be plenty of that, but she wanted the party to be
something special. Something that not only celebrated her day of
entrance into our world, but also her favorite past time as well: the
celebration of film and the moving picture.
Together with a few other friends, we
planned her party and the details behind it. She wanted it to be a
costume party, a party where guests came to dinner in costume,
character or both and enjoyed each other's personalities come alive.
After having her friends vote on each person and their respective
character, we had time to assemble our costumes and characters before
the party. Out of all the people, I was picked to be Christopher
Walken. Personally, I would have loved to have been Harold Raimas
from Ghostbusters, but if people wanted me to be The Walken, than
damn it, I was Walken for a night.
Once the day came, we gathered at a
restaurant large enough to fit a sizable group of people and not too
long after the final guest showed up, the rediculousness began. I sat
next to Aaron Johnson from Kick Ass, a shy introverted young man who
dreamed of becoming a super hero. Across from me sat The Dude from
the Big Lebowski, calm and laid back as in the movie, not quite
understanding why Erin Brockovich was getting so upset next to him.
Velma from Scooby Doo was there and not
too far from her was Michael Cera from Superbad looking as
awkward and personality-less as ever. His girlfriend, Rosemary
from Rosemary's Baby looked to be in good spirits despite having a
(fake) demon baby growing inside of her. At the head of the table,
sat the birthday girl herself: Penelope Cruz from the film Vicky,
Christina Barcelona. Full of spite about her failed relationships and
her apparent lack of not existing, her bitter and spiteful
personality was on full display, taking any opportunity to insult and
belittle guests who dared to speak to her. As for myself, I acted as
cool as I could because, Walken, as we all know, is always cool.
After the weird rogue's gallery of
assorted movie characters finished their meal, we made our way from the restaurant to go
from club to club until we found a suitable spot. Luckily, the
weather was not too cold, making the trek from place to place
pleasant and all the more jovial since we were in good company.
The
city of Daegu was one of my favorite metropolitan cities in Korea for
its clean streets and the close proximity of small shops and
restaurants. It was often difficult to navigate around the city due
to the building's close proximity and lack of decipherable landmarks,
however this just added to its charm. It was a small maze of bright
lights and little coffee shops filled with people walking everywhere.
In Seoul, you could often feel trapped by the massive concrete
pillars looming over you. Here, It felt like a leisurely downtown stroll.
We finally settled on a small night
club called Jeep. It was tiny, dark and smelled like a ash tray that
should have been thrown out years ago. The music they played
ranged from bad pop to enjoyable beats. The song choices and
atmosphere mattered little as we started to dance not long after
settling in. Good and bad songs. Hip hop and hits from yesterday. We
danced and danced until the early dawn and the first train prepared
to leave the city. It was exhausting. It filled out lungs with smoke
and our bodies with alcohol, but we didn't mind. Everyone was
laughing and dancing. They didn't care about any of this. We were
with each other, the ones we spent the most time with, the ones we
came to when we were in trouble and the ones we relied on whether we
wanted to admit it or not.
As I rode the long train home, I talked
to one of my friends sitting next to me about a topic that I had no
real knowledge in, nor anything useful to contribute. I simply wanted
to keep talking, to enjoy the positive energy and make the party last
a little longer.
I was reminded about a lot that night.
I remembered how the right people can always make an event fun, and
sometimes even more fun than it initially seems. I reminded myself to
enjoy these moments and remember them, for like all things in life
they pass along too quickly. I also reconfirmed that I was a horrible
dancer. I don't know how to dance at clubs. I will probably never
learn and don't really want to. My friends danced like they didn't
care who was watching and despite some curious onlookers who
eventually joined us, they weren't there to show off or look good in
front of a crowd, they wanted to dance.
So they danced.
No one uploaded pictures from the party yet, so here is a birthday cake. Yep. Delicious birthday cake.
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