There is a party going on next door. As a free for all libertarian I should be in favour of parties. I don't like parties. I'm about as successful at parties as I would be in prison, I lack the requisite skills for survival in both environments. Sadly I would be more likely to get laid in prison.
There was a time when parties revolved around the quality of the guests, when folks were invited on their reputations, for charm, conversation, silliness. Supper would be served, a musical entertainment, staff would serve drinks. A party today means loud music, loud enough that no one can converse. If I wanted to shout into someone's ear I'd visit my great aunt.
Occasionally I am invited to a truly sophisticated party, very rarely, I clearly don't know enough middle aged homosexuals any more. When I was young and pretty I found myself remarkably popular at such events, probably for the same reason I'd be popular in prison. Once it was established that I was flamboyantly straight I was free to enjoy the charms of fine wine, finger food, funny and charming conversation. These parties would be discussed for weeks afterwards, the brilliant, hilarious, whimsical things that had been said, the chamber cabaret performance, those remarkable prawn and Camembert spring rolls.
At today's parties I find everyone has to shout about what a great time they are having, the only things to recall the next day are the ear ringing and who puked where, who shagged whom in the bathroom. Folks with nothing to say dance with folks with nothing to say then everyone goes home.
I know what you are thinking, this guy is getting old. The fact is I'm not old enough, I was born a century too late. I should have been around when a handwritten invitation to a soirée arrived in the post instead of a group e mail to a partay.
I wander past the gate of the home where the party is on, I can't take any more oonz oonz oonz. I recognise a neighbour, I'm invited in. On the whole I'd rather be invited to spend some time in prison.