11
Nov
08

Pate faux pas

Party Saturday night. Friends of the Texas Twister. French. Jenny and Simon—his birthday. I asked how old, but the Twister didn’t know. Certainly in his twenties. In other words, a situation fraught with possible age-related anxieties, phobias and paranoia. However, I could overcome it; simply have a good time, meet people, don’t worry about it. Drink lots, and fast. Try to avoid references to anything pop culture prior to 1990. To these people, Nirvana is classic rock, John Hughes is Orson Welles, and ‘Saved by the Bell’ is a cultural touchstone.

Anyway, the night arrives, I dress casually but not too casually, we bring a bottle of wine (did I mention they’re French?). Everyone’s drinking wine, there’s a great spread of food (quiches, cheese wrapped in zucchini, pate). I’m doing my end holding up various conversations, even going out of my way to meet people, chatting about France and whatever, when I’m helping myself to another cornichon when all of a sudden this guy comes up to me and says, “Boy, I’m glad you’re here. I thought I was going to be the oldest person at this party!”

We left shortly after.


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