Someone mentioned this to me recently.
You know you did something worth doing if almost 30 years later someone remembers.
Anyway, I had been invited to a party and decided to show. I wasn't then and still not a cocktail party goer-tooer. They're generally boring as hell but for some long forgotten reason I decided to go to this one.
Now if there's one thing I know how to do it is to stage an arrival.
I walked up to the back porch with a bottle of Jameson's in one hand and an artillery simulator in the other. I am still trying to recall where I got an artillery simulator after all these years but for some reason I managed to find myself in posession of one of those damned things.
I wish I could get a few more but on the other hand, maybe the world is a better place to live because I can't.
Now an artillery simulator is little more than a giant firecracker that makes an Old School cherry bomb sound like a soft fart in a hurricane. It also has a very loud pre-detonation whistle.
I was on the porch and stayed out of view of the window so I could not be seen and scoped out a decent impact area which proved to be the unpaved driveway. A gravel driveway can tolerate having a crater blown in it while a chunk torn out of an asphalt driveway is an expensive repair job.
Ala John Wayne throwing a grenade in Hollywood, I grabbed the ignition string with my teeth, jerked the simulator and saw it was activated and flipped it into the driveway. I waited because they have long fuses as a safety precaution so PFC What'shisface doesn't lose an arm if he's still holding it when it goes off.
As soon as the thing started the pre-detonation whistle I stood squarely in the doow with a big grin and the simulator went off with a flash that could be seen for the entire neighborhood and a blast that could be heard for miles.
When it blew I was treated to about a half-dozen frightened shrieks from some of the womanfolk already in attendance and the joy of hearing the thing echo a bit.
It was the kind of noise that would have made the lights go on in every house in an 8 block radius at 0300, a combination of a sharp crack and a low, extremely loud boom.
My host immediately flung open the door in complete panic to see what happened and was treated to yours truly standing in the door with a big grin on his face. He stood there agape.
"Hello," I said conversationally.
Now THAT'S how you make an Old School arrival to a party.
That's hilarious! My kind of party guest!
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