Revelry is not usually my…‘scene’, as it were. If I host a party, it’s usually to do with business partners or simply celebrating an achievement (of business), and thus attending a party for the sake of it being a party is unfamiliar to me. There comes a time, however, when one must simply let one’s hair down, so to speak. Or so I thought. My Father and the owner of the Extreme Expeditions company were good friends in their youth, odd since their business choices didn’t really overlap. I will admit, I spent some time in my childhood on board the Taylor-Thomas yacht, just as they sometimes came aboard mine, and thus when I heard my friend was having a get-together, I thought I’d pay a visit.
I wasn’t fooled for a second. Had Dirk asked, I could have recommended any number of Melbourne outboard motor services, even supplied one of my own. Whatever silly expedition he was on seemed to have done some damage to the family vessel, and so the power was out. Worse, it was not the cocktail affair that I was expecting, which leads me to wonder what I was expecting. I was clearly overdressed, especially compared to some of the scandalous young women with their dresses lingering up to inch above the knee. There were no champagne waiters, the music was obscenely modern and the whole place was lit by candles, as if it were taking place in the jungle.
The outboard motor issue became apparent when I realised we’d been in the harbour for two hours, though at that point I’d been lingering near the stern, alone with the most dignified drink I could find (a lemon and lime bitters, from a bottle). The boat was scuppered, though fortunately I was able to leave early while the revelry increased. I considered calling Dirk in the morning and recommending the finest outboard motor repairs Melbourne had to offer…though if I remember, he’s the type to sleep until noon anyway. We are clearly very different as businessmen. Also, as people.
-Percival Clancey III