Sat Oct 15
We meet our Plus One on the porch of a beautiful house, where he is sitting in a rocking chair and musing on his own mortality. "Ghosts are afoot," someone says, and this seems right-on—there's a chilly breeze and falling leaves feel like clammy hands grabbing at people's skin. Any party in October has a touch of the ghoulish about it, and this one, an unofficial afterparty for The Stranger's Genius Awards, is no exception. The house is half-decorated for Halloween with orange streamers and black-light paintings.
Thoughts quickly turn from the vampiric: Our hostess is offering up a smile and the house's stash of liquor—an oddball assortment of peppermint Schnapps, amaretto, and vodka—to anyone who ambles in. At least three Certified Geniuses (who've been drinking, by now, for seven solid hours) and a whole bunch of hardcore partiers are wandering about, checking out the music selection, the amazing red shag carpet, and the mannequin with a weird television for a head.
There's a definite afterparty vibe in the air—laidback discussions about cultural criticism mesh with moments of cartoonish hyperactivity: A hot couple decides that making out for Party Crasher's camera is a great idea, even though the girl insists that they're just friends and the guy laughs that his "boyfriend is gonna be pissed" when he sees the pictures. We all spaz-dance to Prince and Peaches and have ourselves a blast. One partygoer eases our twin insecurities at being in the presence of ghosts and smart people: "We've had our five minutes of fuckin' genius; now we all need to chill the fuck out."
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