Party Crasher

It’s 11:00 p.m. when I arrive, and gods and goddesses are gathered
in the kitchen, singing “Happy Birthday” to a young woman who goes by
“Chainsaw.” On the table, a decorative cake features a
phoenix—judging from her spiky red hair and fiery pasties, the
birthday girl is dressed as some sort of a topless firebird. A
bearded Dionysus, wreathed in grape leaves, divides up the cake while
Hera explains that in Greek mythology, Dionysus is a major figure,
while to the Romans he is known as Bacchus and is much less important.
Hera gestures toward the cake-giver: “He’s definitely a Bacchus.”

Not everyone has interpreted the theme along strictly Greek or Roman
lines, inviting some crossover questions of who holds true dominion; a
sparkling Helios and an Amaterasu (in drag) argue over who has more
authority as a sun god. Outside, a punk dressed as Pan mingles,
dangling a fleshy dildo from his belt and inviting everyone to
tug. Another partygoer claims to represent Tetanus—technically
not a spiritual figure, but the silver headdress he wears is impressive
nonetheless.

An emerald-colored Medusa dances and snakes across the living
room to some music that sounds somewhere between Leftfield and Moby.
The lights dim and a projector begins screening Debbie Does
Dallas. Everybody’s drinks remain properly upright, but the dance
floor can only hold so many people and so much kinetic energy. I gather
my notes and let the gods decide their own fate.

Want The Stranger to become aware of impending nudity
at your house party? Send the date, place, and party details to
partycrasher@thestranger.com.