Thursday, November 11, 2010

Welcome Party

Ever since my sister joined IBA (note: encourage your siblings to have divergent academic interests from an early age to avoid public embarrassment later), all party evenings are marked by my sister barging into our room and whining 'I don't have ANY clothes! BOOHOO!'

Technically, that can never be true, since one always has the clothes on one's back. Just saying.

This was no unusual evening, and as usual, I continued reading the notes I was perusing and said absent mindedly 'You can wear the top you bought from XYZ (read really expensive) place, and those pair of jeans.'

That settled the havoc. For the next five minutes. The rest of her time was spent shrieking over not finding matching jewellery/ shoes/ or anything else that could possibly match her attire. Thankfully, my cat is a shade of brown. If my sis could overcome her hatred of her, she would've paraded her about like Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde with her pet poodle. More on that later.

The last cry of agony was heard at 9 sharp. The light had just gone out, and she regretted not having straightened her hair for the hundredth time.

We piled up into a friend's car and sped off. The moment we landed, I spied a number of aunties dressed to the hilt in shararas and ghararas. Unfortunately for me, the aunties looked old enough to be MBA students, and I panicked.

Sis grabbed my arm. 'The dress code was formal, right?'

I gritted my teeth. 'Yeah, that's what I heard.'

She thought that I was blind. I am, but only sometimes. 'Some people here are wearing fancy shalwar kameezes!' she wailed, stamping her feet.

'Maybe we should go home and change,' I mused out loud.

Trust her to take me literally. 'How are we going to get home? Our ride just left!' she wailed.

After much debate, dodging of valet-driven cars and ogling of aunties in hideous green clothes, we decided that one of our friends (who had dressed formally) should go ahead and check out the scene ahead of us.

Formal Friend haughtily sauntered up ahead and out of sight.

She didn't come back for ten minutes.

We, the irate trio, decided to go ahead ourselves, only to realize that FF had been peering through the doorway like some James Bond heroine -NOT.

'People are dressed both formally and casually!' she piped up cheefully.

I rolled my eyes and sallied forth.

Groups of people were huddled together across the wide expanse of the floor. The music was deafening and no one I knew was in sight. Thanks to this stupid jammer, I had to wend my way through the throng of chattering seniors and excited freshies to get to the other end where I could catch a signal.

Replying to my text, a friend replied that they were 'on their way'. When someone usually writes that, I interpret that as:

a) the person has left his/her house

b) is driving/ is on the road

c) is hastily giving their keys to the valet outside and is in the process of scurrying inside before they have to incur more of my wrath.

However, what this has ended up being a euphemism for is that:

a) the person yawned, checked his watch and decided that it was the right time to arrive fashionably late

b) stood honking outside a house while another friend spent eternity slathering on makeup

c) picked up a gazillion people 'on the way'.

It turned out that I was right, and all three situations had actually taken place. Hmph.

Not wanting to look like a loser with nothing to do, I went over to where a couple of my other friends were busy chomping on a burger. Yes, that's all you get if you enroll in a fancy shmancy business school- a burger that took ages to finish, a handful of flaccid fries and Pepsi.

Underage Senior and the Chai Chor were having an argument.

'The food is awful!' US wailed, as usual. 'I don't like it.'

CC chewed his burger thoughtfully and gave his verdict. 'Um, the burger's actually not that bad, my patty is ok, and the whole thing is warm.'

'My burger is awful!' repeated US, even more loudly for emphasis.

Picture this: if everyone is shouting to be heard above the din of raucous music, does it really mean that they are shouting if they can’t hear each other?

Guess what? YES, because we all had to repeat ourselves a gazillion times.

I looked back and forth from US to the CC and held up a hand. 'Ok, I'll go and get mine to decide for myself.'

CC was so wrong. US was wrong-er. The burger wasn't awful, it was BLEGH.

Things perked up a bit when I decided to go ice skating with some other friends. I must say it’s great fun to see people teetering on roller blades and falling down with a wallop- making asses of themselves by literally falling on their asses. I half wanted to push some people I particularly detested, but people were watching. And, er, it would have been mean. So I didn't.

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, said someone I seriously wish would die already. Ok, maybe he already has. Some people decided that if life means having music blasting from every nook and cranny possible, then you make a dance floor. Sure enough, two skinny guys (yes I looked, and did not think they were hot) were trying to vow the ladies by a series of quirky dance steps that honestly looked like they were having a seizure each. Or were performing bad imitations of Step Up movies' moves. Not surprisingly, the only audience around them comprised of wimpy looking guys who looked on in jaw-dropping admiration.

When I came back, I discovered that the accursed friends were busy staring at scantily clad girls. Since now there was nothing else to do, we put on our bored, cool, 'been there done that' looks and took our seats above the mini-golf area. The friends (why am I even calling them friends, I should've disowned them by now) proceeded to stalk two guys and pronounced them to be gay. All they were doing were shaking hands, and smiling at each other, which is so NOT gay. The rest of us weren’t amused. Like duh.

Did I mention the stupid jammer? Well, it turned out to be even stupid-er in the end. I spent ages rounding up people when it was time to go home. The ride home was a treat, with a noisy Hobbit sitting next to me and Sis who wouldn't stop saying the most insane things.

*beep beep*

I just censored those insane things.

The car pulled away, and I was left standing in the rain with an Energizer Bunny-ized sister. It was indeed the anticlimactic finish to the evening, since I was the one who had to tolerate her babble all the way home. Up to our room. Until she fell asleep exhausted.


The One and Only Roxie said...

I'm so glad my sister is 15 years older than me.

But then I get her awkwardly trying to copy my style. She's almost 40, she shouldn't be dressing like a 20-something. :/

Maryam said...

Haha, and I thought my sister copying me two years ahead of her time was bad :S

Saima Merchant said...

I just love the way u write...i can actually imagine wat ur talking about...awesome description....

sadia said...

i LOVE the way u writee!!!!:D

Nabeel said...

*beep* *beep* lol.HAHA..
I fought my browser and finally was able to comment.. :)

Mehtaz Sultan Khan said...

Hey, I pointed those gay dudes! XD Doesn't sound right but whatever.

Misbah said...

didnt come to the welcome, but this blog gives me a good picture of how it would have been.

Maryam said...

Sadia: Thanks! :)
Nabeel: Don't remind me, anyone else would think she was high :S

Mehtaz: So much for trying to keep your identity a secret. Now everyone knows that you pint out gay people.

Misbah: Yes, you didn't miss much :S

Alpha Za said...

haha, Interesting post, sounds like you had quite a night.

Speaking from the experience of having two sisters, I can easily say that they are all nuts. But I still love them. There is no substitute. I attended the same campus with my eldest sister in high school. Not my best year.

I've been there, the food sucks. I concur with your taste assessment.

Maryam said...

Alpha: I believe it would've been best if I could've been an only chid :)

Alpha Za said...

haha, I have no doubt that she feels the same way.

Bechara Sa said...

You must talk a LOT. :)

Tazeen said...

hahaha loved your cautionary note
(note: encourage your siblings to have divergent academic interests from an early age to avoid public embarrassment later)