Party Crasher

It is a cold night. I lost my biking gloves earlier in the week, and
now my fingertips are numb after I have pedaled down Howell Street in
my search for a party promising a cartoon-theme-songs cover
band. There are a few people smoking on the porch as I lock my bike
up. A dull thud—very uncartoonish—is escaping
through the house walls.

This is a dance party. It has all the trappings of a hastily
thrown together gathering: a few cases of PBR, a sound system rigged up
in the living room, and bottles of soap bubbles. My mature,
intellectual decision-making abilities steer me away from the dance
floor, where my skills are lacking, and toward the promise of blowing
soap bubbles into the air, for which I have a rare talent first
displayed during childhood. Soap spills, again and again, onto my
pants, and the bottle begins to feel very slippery in my hands. The
primordial lizard area of my brain takes over, and I blow a perfect
cascade of bubbles through the dancing crowd before handing off the
sudsy distraction to another partygoer.

The band explodes into view from behind a sheet hanging from the
ceiling on the edge of the dance floor. My distracted musings on how
long they have been hiding behind a dirty sheet in the corner are
pounded out of my head by the X-Men theme song. The crowd is
treated to feedback versions of “Sailor Moon” and “G.I. Joe” before the
Themestresses finish their epic eight-minute set. People begin,
shaken and cowed by the melodies of heroes, to dance again.

Want The Stranger to unleash cartoon violence at your
house party? Send the date, place, and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.