The ubiquitous office holiday party post

Actually, while the office holiday party was as entertaining as these things can be MINUS CHEESE (seriously, what's up with that? the tables were groaning with shrimp, sushi, and salmon, but no cheese products of any variety. so sad), the open bar more than compensated for it. No one got obstreperous or anything. Pity. The party almost didn't happen because Kofi Annan was in the building for some event on the second floor and the caterers were having a rough time getting through security. They did finally prevail.

But it was afterwards that was noteworthy. One of our bigwigs, who is kind of well known in DC circles, wanted to move the party on to a nearby pub. My colleagues and I figured, who are we to say no? Heh. Since it was too early for a real bar to be open - for some reason, most people don't want to drink at 3:30 on a Thursday afternoon - we went to Biddy O'Mulligan's, an "Irish" pub that's situated in a nearby hotel. So off we went. After a couple of hours and several beers later, the bigwig got up and left...without putting any money down or even offering to pay. We all looked at each other, like, did he give his money to *you*? No dice. So modest notoriety apparently doesn't buy you manners. I will give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he thought that our organization was paying. But still.

Conveniently enough, Biddy had been chosen by some of my former classmates as the place to have a happy hour, so I bullied some people into sticking around until they showed up. Finally, by 7, I had to leave to meet with the Marine. I figured I could pay my portion of the bill and scurry home in time to greet him at the door. No luck. Every time I go to Biddy's, they dick me over, and this time was no different. Somehow, in the short distance between the credit card reader and my table, my debit card fell out of the little bill folder and slipped into the fourth dimension, because that sucker was GONE. Poof - it disappeared into thin air. So I'm on the phone with the Marine, trying to give him alternate directions to the bar so he can pick me up while at the same time routing through every square inch around my table to try to find my debit card.

I was so pissed, because while I have been known to accidentally leave my card behind at bars before, or have my card fall out of my pocket (what? you carry yours in your wallet? bully for you), or do something boneheaded that results in it leaving my possession, for once this was not my fault. And I'm leaving for LA next week, which means that I'd be debit-card-less until after my return and thus cash-less too. So I was not in the best of moods last night.

Happy ending to the story: Biddy's staff, who to their credit were quite apologetic about the whole incident, apparently kept searching for my card after I left and found it. It is under lock and key there, and I'll be swinging by after work tonight to pick it up. It still has ensured that I don't want to go there ever again. Some places just are cursed and Biddy's is one of them.