Not My Cup of Tea

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When Jodi invited me to go out with them tonight, she said, "Just come by the house. We're going to have a few drinks before we head out."

I thought it would be about five people, the usual suspects. But this, is a full-fledged party! Loud music pumping, alcohol flowing, and I don't even know most of the people here.

"Hey!" Jodi shouts over the music. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thanks!"

Honestly, I'm not a big drinker. I don't like the taste of most alcoholic beverages, and I don't like the heaviness in my stomach, like I'm dehydrated. I usually opt out of alcohol. When I do have drinks with friends, it's Jack and Coke, baby.

I find a spot on the couch and start munching on Funyons, which I probably haven't had since I was thirteen. I have flashbacks to 1994, when I used to go to the pool everyday in the summer with Christy, the girl down the street. We'd sit on the roof of the poolhouse and eat Funyons and watch the boys do silly dives off the diving board. We were so boy-crazy but too shy to say anything to them other than "hi".

I smile at the memory, realizing how remarkable it is that I'm here now. My thirteen-year-old mind never could have imagined I'd be living in another country by the time I'm twenty-seven.

"Hello," a guy says, disrupting my thoughts.

I look up to see a smiling, incredibly handsome man sitting across from me.

"I don't know you," he says. "I'm Francis."

He is African, with light brown silky skin and perfectly straight, white teeth. He is short--about my height or less--and dresses and carries himself so smartly, I would think he's a rich guy with a classy upbringing.

I introduce myself and we begin to talk. I find out he is Bongyong's husband (one of my co-workers who is also at this party), they are both from Cameroon, and he used to teach at my school for about three years. Then he had a visa situation, so had to go back to Cameroon for the last year. He recently returned to Luton and to his wife, and now she is pregnant and he is re-employed at my school.

The more we chat, the more I'm fascinated by him. Francis is by far the most attractive man at this party. Actually, he's the most attractive man I've met since I came to England. Way to go, Bongyong, I think.

We talk about Africa and education and politics and what should be done to change the world into a better place. He's very intelligent, smiley, and motivated to help Africa out of its poverty. He inspires me. I feel even more convinced that I must join the Peace Corps.

Mary Jo changes the music to Michael Jackson's Greatest Hits. She pulls me off the couch and starts dancing, so off course, I dance, too. I may turn down alcohol, but I don't usually turn down dancing! Soon, we have a small group of five of us dancing. Most of the party is in the kitchen.

I go to the kitchen to see who I can persuade to come dance with us and get sucked into conversations that I don't really want to have. Jodi and Deanna introduce me to some of their friends. Which is fine, but one guy latches onto me because of my accent and starts telling me a bunch of stuff about America, half of which wasn't even true. He kept insisting that he knew was he was talking about. It was all bullshit. I think he was just trying to wind me up. His friend laughs with embarrassment and puts his hand to his forehead, saying, "Oh my God, mate, just shut up." Something about him totally creeps me out.

After a couple of hours, people start leaving the party, including Bongyong and Francis. I wish I could leave too. Actually, I wish I could go with them, because I admire them both so much. I want to spend more time with them.

"Taxi is here!" Mary Jo calls.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

We go to a dance club called Chicago's. About fifty percent of the music they play are radio hits that I've heard of (but don't necessarily enjoy), and the rest of it is European dance music. The dance floor is so crowded and hot, we can't even dance. Deanna, Igi, and I go up some stairs to the balcony to dance where there is more space. We dance and dance and dance.....and keep on dancing.

I'm ready to go. Actually, I was ready to go before we even arrived. I'm not a clubbing person. I would have rather stayed with Francis and Bongyong and talked about education and world politics all night. I never went to dance clubs back home. I've always hated them. But that's just the thing to do here. Everyone goes. If I want to hang out with my friends, I gotta go with them to clubs sometimes. Since I've been in England these past six months, I've been to more clubs than in the entire rest of my life combined.

Eventually, we're sent downstairs by the club security, because they're closing the upstairs area. We find our big group of friends and try dancing in spite of the crowd. Creepy guy shows up, wearing a snow hat and scarf and big coat, as if it's freezing in here. I'm wiping sweat off my forehead. He comes over to me as soon as he sees me and starts trying to dance with me. His face is pale, his lips almost grayish. The way he keeps closing his eyes and swaying slowly to the music....

"Deanna," I say. "I think that dude is on drugs."

"Do you want us to keep him away from you?"

"Please!"

For the next hour, he keeps trying to dance with me, but Jodi will get between us to dance with me. Or Deanna will grab me to go with her to the bar. Or Mary Jo needs me to join her in the bathroom. They keep him away.

In typical British fashion, we stay at the club until it closes at three in the morning. Jodi has joined up with a guy she knows and they want to go to another club that stays open until six. Hell no! I think.

Deanna and I shoot each other questioning looks. I say, "I'm really tired. I'd like to go to bed."

"OK, yeah, me too," she says, obviously relieved.

"Well we're going out!" Jodi says.

As Deanna and I walk back to their house alone, Deanna says, "I'm glad you didn't wanna go to another club. If you had wanted to go, then I'd have probably gone, too, just so I wouldn't have to walk home alone."

Back at the house, we sit on the couch and chat for a while before going to bed. As I fall asleep on the couch, I feel glad to have a friend like Deanna. We have a lot in common.

It's four in the morning now. I really need to start saying no to "going out" in England. It's just not my cup of tea.

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Photos

Jodi and I
at her house.

Mary Jo
strikes a pose in her cheap sunglasses.

Deanna and I
at the dance club.