Graduation looms. Finals are almost over, one left to go. Half the class has already passed their state board licensing exams. So what is to be done?

A party!

Friends gathered at Port-au-Patois #4 on Ping Island to whoop it up. So many people came, it was amazing. With the ferries now costing over $18 for car and driver, I was worried that people wouldn't come because of the expense. But my massage school homies sucked it up and descended en masse on the manse. And a fine time was had! Island folk came, too. Sweet.

I'm hoping Bernie will comment here and add to my description, because frankly I'm partied out, half brain dead, dealing with a miffed beau (the older one, not the younger), and I just woke up. I won't do justice to the "boogie with a suitcase / you're livin' in a disco / forget about the rat race / let's do the milkshake, sellin' like a hotcake" vibe. I just won't.

Let's see. I'll divide by geographic region. Just as good a way as any.

Living room/kitchen: Food was laid out, and people gathered at the table and on the couch. At some points, there was dancing, and the floor did NOT collapse, thank goodness (it's an old floor, 105 years old!). At quieter times, people gathered and talked and spilled beers, the liquid from which rolled under my bookshelves, which are just to heavy to be quickly moved. (Wonder what that part of the floor will look like when I finally do move the shelves? Best to forget.)

Fire pit: people came and went from here, depending on the wind, rain and current activity. We burned our Anatomy & Physiology textbooks:


That's Sarai (with her hand up), Elsa and Keith, left to right. The others are innocent bystanders.

Jill and Tim brought oysters and roasted them on the fire. Yum! Nancy brought fire wood, yay, Nancy! Evening saved!

The wind and rain came and went, but there were many die-hard souls out there, hoods up, backs to the wind, most of the night. There was even the occasional peeing off the bulkhead, which was more funny than not. At least no girls tried it. That just gets messy and embarrassing.

The massage room: Keith worked on Roxane, who noted his superior stretching and deep tissue techniques. And I'm not even speaking euphemistically: he really did do some treatment work on her, and she was grateful. I told her he's your man for the DT and Swedish gym. She worships his skillz, yo.

The deck: smoking area. Thanks to the peeps for getting rid of that, yah. Some partygoers were worried that the deck might not hold all the people on it, and I laughed because the deck is the newest and sturdiest horizontal surface in the whole building! It is definitely the best place to be if you want to remain in the apartment's plane. That dancing on the living room fir floor is what they should have worried about. But no harm, no foul.

The upper room (aka the bedroom): apparently there was some smooching going on up there! Insert cheesy grin here (and it wasn't even me doing the smooching!). Folks were up there messing with the music, Bernie playing DJ. Had to find some dancing tunes! The bathroom was both used for its intended purpose and for a little more smooching. Realize that this bathroom is almost too small for one person, being sort of a ship-type space with just a corner toilet and a sink the diameter of a volleyball. Kudos to the two who molded themselves to its shape in the name of macking. That's my peeps. Ever flexible!

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I am grateful that my friends know not only how to party, but how to be good guests. There was no puking. Yeah, Big Man got totally loaded, and he whooped and hollered and wore my motorcycle helmet backwards half of the night (still awaiting pics of that), and he got a boo boo when he slid down the carpeted stairs, but hey, it's not a party until someone gets broken. (Oh, wait, that's 'until something gets broken'. Hmm.) He's fine, the house is fine, and best of all, my guests cleaned up after themselves! I had to leave for a couple of days after the party, and when I got home, a survey of the yard showed just one forgotten beer bottle and two hula hoops (and who would complain about hula hoops?). The deck has some cigarette butts and full bottles of pop. No big deal. Annika (and who else? I don't remember) were especially diligent about making sure the kitchen was tidied before everyone left. I so appreciate that.

Everyone made it home safely, no DUIs, no lost wandering either on-island or off-island, and no puking (though one person got close, but bless her heart, it was the first time she had been drunk, and she soldiered up pretty well). The cats survived (though my friend's dog was really terrorized), the people survived, the neighbors survived, and the building survived.

Chalk up one more for the Cove.