STEAMING
I take a long, hard pull from my cigarette and gaze out over the steaming pool. It's cold out, too cold for this old cotton suit I am wearing, but still, a man has his vices and this particular nook of the world is now opposed to the graceful art of tobacco smoking.
It's just as well though. These types of events always put me on edge. When it is still this far from Christmas, who really feels in the mood for peace and love. Christmas parties in November end up being more about the hate and fight that people have within.
There are too many glassy eyes in that ballroom. Too many slack jawed associates with dribble lines down the front of their jackets and gowns.
Things are heating up on the dance floor, and at the bar. The sound of breaking glass drifts out through the crack in the patio door behind me, loud laughter follows, and raised voices...
People who get mad when they drink, should not drink. People who get stupid when they drink, should not drink. People who can not handle their drinks, should not drink.
It really is that simple.
This is meant to be a party, and parties should be fun, but at the moment, this does not feel fun.
There is an ominous feeling in the air. You can feel the people inside slowly, sloppily spiralling out of control. It is an ugly vibe, but an expected one.
Bringing out the best in people, often brings out their worst. I stub my cigarette butt out into the tall pillar-shaped ashtray and turn my back on the warm embrace of the steaming pool. If I were younger, I might hop the fence and douse myself in those warm waters, let the steam rise up around me. i might not even take off my suit to do it.
A shout erupts within the bar and I sigh. Time to clean up another mess.
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