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Darcy Plus Party

July 26, 2010

The Velvet Rope Gauntlet. Image Via: Menshealth



Memorial Day Weekend in the Hamptons means the first day of summer for New Yorkers. I realize that sounds a bit New Yorkcentric, but bear with me.

One Memorial Day weekend, I was invited by a handsome young gentleman to attend a party in the Hamptons that he had some involvement in, he was the chef.
“I will put you on the list, just tell me how many people you want to bring.”
Hmmm. “the list”. “The list” is something I left behind years ago. In another lifetime actually. The only real lists I am on these days are ones that involve some type of sign-up for volunteer work at the book fair or bake sale at Bear’s school.

Several days, several texts and one or two phone conversations later I reluctantly agree to attend this party. I call Alexis and Max on conference.
“He invited me to attend a party. He put me on the list.” I announce this with as much excitement as one announces things like dental appointments or jury duty. It’s not that I wasn’t excited to see him, but I could do without the velvet rope gauntlet in order to have that opportunity.
“Wait a second. You are Darcy plus party?” Max says in his most facetious tone.
Alexis and I immediately break into laughter.
“I know. I know. I am embarrassed to even tell you both.”
They mock me relentlessly.
“Darcy, you can’t go there. That is the worst thing I have ever heard.” Max says. He proceeded to rattle off a list of D-list celebs he guesses will be in attendance. I cringe knowing he is right.

The day of the event, Max and Alexis texted me and called me periodically to mock me some more.
“Darcy plus party? What did you do today?”
“Plus party, are you dusting off your cork wedges for the occasion?”
My ultimate favorite was Max calling me, or should I say PRANK calling me:
“Hi Darcy plus party, this is Troy calling from the Pink Elephant. I just wanted to confirm your table tonight with bottle service, you and your friends will all be comped, if you have any problem please ask for me at the door. You are on Troy’s list.”
I can only laugh. The whole thing is completely ridiculous, and I realize I am way to old for this. That morning I draft my step-sister as my wing woman.
“I am in.” She says. I love her positive attitude.

I decide I want to be fashionably late, and by fashionably late, I mean, arrive as it’s ending. I would like to duck in and duck out with a mere hello and nothing more. The party is called from 7-10pm. I have a leisurely dinner with my family and at 9:00 pm I head out. My step-sister and I load into the car, cork wedges and all, and drive through the pitch black back roads of the Hamptons. A few wrong turns later we are more late than fashionable. I stroll up to the hostess at 9:40 pm.
“Hi, I on the list (vomit)”
“Hi, the party is closed. We are at maximum capacity and even though you may be on the list we can’t let another person in. We are closed for the night.” She says this with a voice as though she is feigning sympathy of some kind.
WHAT? I just got shut down at the door for a B&T party I am on the list for?
“Well, I am not really here for the party (I’m too good for it), I am here for Chef Hottie. Can you please tell him Darcy is here.”
This is what I want to say: ” I don’t want to come in, in fact, that’s why I am here as it’s ending. I think this whole thing is beyond cheesy and I would actually rather get run over by one of the 40 Range Rovers in this parking lot, than set foot through that front door.” But I don’t say it.
“What’s your name?” The hostess says as she rolls her eyes.
“Darcy.” (Darcy plus party I mock myself silently in my head)
Another hostess overhears me give my name and comes running to the aid of the first hostess. She says that Chef Hottie had recently asked if I had arrived and that he was waiting for me.
“Well Darcy, while we can’t let you in, someone will go find him.”
Is this real?
I text Max. “You won’t believe this, but I can’t even get in!”
“Go find Dina Lohan immediately.” He shoots back. I laugh.

Chef Hottie walks out of the front door and immediately I don’t care that I am waiting in a sea of cheesy losers with a door person that won’t let me in. He is THAT cute.
“What’s going on? Come here.” He waves me over.
The hostess sisters explain to him that they are at capacity and cannot let another person in.
“Why did you get here 3 hours late? I was waiting for you.” Chef Hottie says. He seemed genuinely disappointed.
“Sorry, I was eating with my family and I thought you’d be busy.”
“No babe. I was waiting for you. Can you hang out here for 10 minutes and everyone will be leaving and then we can do something together?”
Stand around and wait for you? No. “Okay.” I say.

“Max. You would die from this scene.” I text.
“I don’t understand. I thought they weren’t letting you in. What are you doing in the parking lot? Are you a parking lot dweller? DARCY GET THE FK OUT OF THERE. WHAT ARE YOU DOING.” He texts back.
I am laughing so hard now I can barely stand in my cork wedges.
“My step sister is asking for the party favor at the front door. She is saying she should get one since she is on the list.”
“Explain she is your STEP.” He says.
I am howling. A few minutes later I realized I wanted no part of standing in a parking lot. I grab my step-sister and we decide to hit the road. Not only did I drag her to a party that wouldn’t let her in,  she didn’t get her goodie bag either.
As I am pulling away in the car Chef Hottie calls.
“Where are you? I came to get you.”
“Sorry Chef Hottie, I couldn’t wait in a parking lot any longer.”
“I am so sorry that happened. Come back. It’s over and we will have dinner.”
With that, my step sister turned the car around and I walked right in through the ropes. Very VIP.  Granted the party was over, and the bouncers were gone, but I still walked right in! We all had a nice dinner, my sister got her goodie bag and in the end a good time was had by all.

Max still calls me “Plus party”, and I love it.

Want to know how this turned out? Not well! Find out here Ghost Of Risotto Past, June 7, 2010.

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