Party Fail

I recently semi-organised one of the most unsuccessful parties in my life, if not in history. The Facebook group confides that 109 guests were invited, and guess how many turned up? No, it’s actually embarrassingly less than what you thought. It’s 4. This equates to a 3.6% turnout, the result is so hilarious it seems impossible to feel insulted. I feel more as if the absent guests were taking part in some grand joke, only they weren’t in on it together, they all made private and separate decisions that led to such a small turnout that I wouldn’t have thought possible.

So where did it all go wrong? I can’t help but feel that the event was titled somewhat ambitiously, parading under the moniker ‘Epic Houseparty Awesomeness’. ‘Houseparty’ itself denotes a significant gathering of people, or at least twenty. We probably thought this was a safe bet when we invited over five times this amount. As embarrassing as a 20% turnout would have been, it would undeniably be a house party, just neither Epic nor Awesome.

I wonder if people felt intimidated by the name, perhaps they didn’t feel ready for such heady experiences. Or perhaps the more cynical among them felt that the party had oversold itself, that by using Epic and Awesome in such close proximity their expectations had risen to dangerous heights, and they knew in their heart of hearts that no party whether epic or awesome could match their frenzied imagination.

Perhaps this is just indicative of the noncommittal attitude prevalent among students. An attitude masked by politeness. The most prominent group of invited rsvp’d as ‘Maybe’. Of course, everyone knows that ‘maybe’ doesn’t constitute a completely neutral position that may swing either way. It’s for people who feel too harsh being categorised as someone who has rejected your invitation. In this case it was as good as no, evidenced by no one on the maybe list showing up. On Facebook, even ‘confirmed’ doesn’t mean yes, it just means they intend to come, or at least they did before they realised that the new series of House is on.

If we lived in an alternate universe when confirmed meant confirmed and maybe meant probably yes, then excusing all the people that I’m still waiting on for a reply and those who admitted they wouldn’t be able to make it, I’m looking at 55 potential partygoers. In real life 4 came. Which meant there was a pullout rate of 92%, which is higher than a teenage boy with no condom.

I think we could have expected a larger turnout had people been drinking prior to the party. There’s nothing like alcohol to lubricate the loose bonds formed at a jamboree. Oh, how we reach out for the camaraderie of strangers with a fervour and raw enthusiasm, and what comfort we find in the bosom of their attention! How we agree that from this moment on there will be plenty more meets, getting togethers, getting to know one anothers. Only once the alcohol has worn off do we retreat to our solitude. Why did I agree to that? We think, and pray the other party has forgotten.

Of course, they’re usually thinking the exact same thing, but it isn’t always the case. Sometimes they ring back, and what a terrifying experience that is. In these circumstances it is perfectly acceptable to change your SIM card and passport photo.

In the end, the party became a small gathering of men and one lady. We played Rockband all night and had ourselves a ruddy good time.