April 28, 2007

Strangely vindicated.

Here is a timeline of last night. All times Pacific Daylight Totally Approximate.

10:30 pm. First band is deemed not that exciting.
11:00 pm. Dianna decides to go read at Cafe Milano and come back later to see the other bands.
11:15 pm. Cafe Milano is closed; Dianna returns home.
11:30 pm. Some dude tries to get into the party for free by entering Dianna's screen door. Dude tries desperately to deny being sketchy, and eventually leaves in embarrassment.
11:45 pm. Bass drum, being played by one of the bands, catches fire in the dining room as a result of flaking paint and high-intensity lamps. Bass drum extinguished, party continues.
11:46 pm. Fire alarm goes off.
11:46 pm and 10 seconds. Veteran co-opers distinguish themselves from the general crowd by transitioning instantly from "party party party" to "everybody out! now! no arguing, OUT!" Dianna grabs book and heads for exit.
11:50 pm. Everybody else catches up and realizes what the veteran co-opers already figured out: that we've vastly exceeded our rated capacity and half the fire escapes are blocked, thereby getting us in enormous shit if the fire department shows up.
11:52 pm. House members attempt to call fire department to explain that there is no longer a fire. Fire department demands to speak to a house manager. Sober manager appears difficult to locate.
11:55 pm. Maintenance manager, in response to social manager's hysterical insistence, shuts off fire alarm.
11:55 pm and 10 seconds. Some dipshit yells, "Hey, the party's back on, everybody come back in!" Dianna goes back downstairs to hide.
12:00 am. Dipshit is silenced; people are ungently herded out of the house once more.
12:04 am. Frantic work of veteran co-opers succeeds in removing stacks of couches from fire escape routes (and 300 people, including Dianna, from house once again).
12:05 am. Fire department arrives. Fire department is not happy.
12:06 am to 12:29 am. Fire department continues to be unhappy.
12:30 am. Fire department revokes house's permit to continue partying, promises to fine us between $2000 and $5000 for turning off fire alarm (see: 11:55 pm), and leaves. Nobody, including fire department, is now happy.
12:30 am and 10 seconds. Partygoers begin demanding refunds of their cover charge.
12:30 am and 11 seconds. Partygoers do not receive refunds because we overspent our social budget, didn't make up the deficit in cover charges before getting shut down, and have massive fire department fines to pay.
12:45 am. Veteran co-opers announce they are relocating party, with house members, few remaining friends of house members, and headlining band, down the block to Cloyne. Exeunt most.
12:50 am. House president of Cloyne turns up in Kingman kitchen, looking glum.
12:55 am. House president of Cloyne adds belatedly that there are plain-clothes police outside of his house, busting people carrying open containers of alcohol.
1:00 am. Dianna, seeing no further obstacles between herself and peaceful sleep for the night, decides she is temporarily amused rather than annoyed and goes to bed.

What's funny, besides, really, the entire mess, is that the house is actually slightly less trashed after this incendiary fiasco than it usually is after a normal party. Then again, I don't know how funny it'll be when I get a housebill for 1/50 of the fire department fine.

Posted by dianna at April 28, 2007 01:41 PM

Hahahaha, awesome. But I'm not sure I get how the bass drum, rather than the house, caught on fire from the paint/lights combo. Was it shaking the house and knocking paint onto itself which then caught on fire?

Posted by: katie at April 28, 2007 02:56 PM

According to my eyewitness, the paint in question was actually on the drum rather than the house. The band had old equipment which had been shoddily repainted, which isn't a problem unless and until one points a ridiculously hot stage light right at the drum from not very far away. And then it goes up in flames with apparent total spontaneity, and chaos ensues.

Posted by: Dianna at April 28, 2007 06:03 PM

Dude, that is so rock & roll. I bet the drummer was surprised when it went whooosh.

Posted by: katie at April 28, 2007 09:23 PM

That is pretty rock & roll. I'm really sorry that I wasn't there to see it -- now what will I tell people about over and over again until they're bored to tears when I'm 40 and trying to prove to everyone how hardcore I was/am?

Posted by: Dianna at April 29, 2007 01:39 PM

You'll tell them that you were hiding in your room with a book, a blanket, and a cup of tea. Maybe by that time, ironic detachment will have gone so far that this will make you sound more hardcore than anyone.

Posted by: katie at April 29, 2007 02:31 PM