Last year, Katie asked me to be her plus one to her company holiday party. Of course, I always have a fantastic time with Katie, but when people keep bringing you fresh ice buckets full of bottles of champagne, such that the only need to stand up is to get more free sushi, well, let's just say it's good to be friends with lobbyists.
By contrast, my work holiday party last year had been a potluck at a coworker's house. This year it was catered, held at school last Friday, beginning at 3pm. The fact that it was at school did not keep it from being a boozy affair. (Our students leave at 1:00 on Fridays, so we didn't contribute to any of our minors' delinquency.) I had several little plastic cups of chianti with my lasagna. I played some Wii Trivial Pursuit, then left around 5:30 to come home and change.
See, because Katie's party was the same night. And I talked sufficiently about how amazing it was last year to get myself invited again. This year, it was at L2, a Georgetown club so difficult to get into that people get themselves on a list to become members (only by having a current member add them) so they can get in without having to take a chance on the line. So it was going to be a tad bit fancier than, say, my school conference room.
In accordance with the dress code specified on the invitation, I changed into my good dark wash going out jeans, black pointy-toed high-heeled boots, and my hot pink silk halter top. Then I took the Metro to the stop nearest to L2, a good mile walk away.
Then I fell down and skinned my knee like the Klassy Lady I am. I made the short hop up onto a curb, twisted my ankle and came down hard on my left knee. Then I walked to exclusive Georgetown club L2 with a hole ripped in the knee of my good going out jeans and the black scraped off the pointy-toe of my left boot.
Fortunately, saying "I'm here for the [name of company] party" got me right on in and the free champagne made an excellent pain-killer. And the swelling in my knee totally went down after a little ice on Saturday morning, so thankfully I won't have to back out of my upcoming half-marathon due to a chianti-and-klutziness-related injury.
Sadly, I'm not sure there's enough black shoe polish to make my pointy boots presentable again. But then, apparently I wasn't really qualified to operate them in the first place.