Wide Lawns is all abuzz because this week is the official "Season Opening". "The Season" is a huge big deal in these parts. It has no other name, and it is a fairly vague term in my opinion. It describes a time of year between about now and maybe March or April (the beginning of the Season is more defined than the end). "The Season" is the time when all the rich white people from Up North migrate down here to have parties and social events, get all dressed up and create gossip to spread amongst one another as a secondary source of entertainment to the parties and fake charity events. The whole thing turns me into a cynical Holden Caulfield who wishes to run and escape all the "phonies". Its all too much for me to handle, with the hairspray and pearls, the martinis, cigar smoke, and bad Lily Pulitzer fashions.
I have thought philosophically about The Season a few times. When we learned about Derrida in school I thought, I want to deconstruct The Season and expose its true fake-ness, which is so complex and exists on so many levels that it would take me pages to really deconstruct it well. I promise I will spare you any such English major tangents and will concentrate on what really matters - good, dirty gossip, of which there is always plenty.
The Season Opening Gala was Saturday night at the clubhouse. It was a huge, black tie affair and the menu alone was 6 pages long and included a glut of caviar, champagne and things containing truffles. I know, it was very stereotypical. It had lobster too. It was as if the menu- making person was thinking "What do rich people eat? Let me put those things on the menu." The presumed answer to that question is things like truffles, lobster, caviar and champagne, however the real answer the the question of what rich people eat is this: barely anything. Rich people don't really eat much at all because they are trying to be thin. That presents an interesting contradiction though, because even though most of them don't eat very much or very often, they do expect there to be a lot of food around at their parties. The food is more of an accessory. They like to look at it and they like to look at food they know is expensive, such as caviar, lobster and the like, hence the six page menu, which I guarantee you did not get eaten until it was served two days old at room temperature in the employee cafeteria. I'm sure the grounds maintenance guys will be puking up fish eggs in a few hours.
For a long time there have been many rumors among the Wide Lawn staff about what actually goes on during and after the Season Opening Gala. There are many reports of extremely wild and decadent activities occurring, and um, well there's just no way of getting around this without saying it outright. Apparently there is a big swingers party that happens at someone's house after the big Gala fete at the clubhouse. I first heard this a couple years ago and scoffed because I guess I'm just an innocent soul who cant imagine these things really happening. It sounded to me like a bunch of exaggerated nonsense.
This year I got some concrete proof. Our Social Director, Kate, has a niece named Denise who lives here in Caravel Meadows, one of our cheaper and least fancy subdivisions, but that's beside the point. Kate had to work the gala, leaving her husband Bob at home. Since Denise lives here she asked her Uncle Bob to go with her to the Gala as her guest and he said he wasn't really interested. Denise then said "Well, we're only going for the food, its not like we're going to the After Party." hmmm. Uncle Bob said he didn't know what his niece meant and she said "You know, the big after party that happens every year. Its always at someone's house. It gets really crazy, but we're not interested in that sort of thing." Uncle Bob wanted to know what sort of thing she meant and she said "partner swapping" and "group sex". Dear me.
At the Gala, Denise reported to her aunt that she had been approached by some couples who were interested in that sort of thing, but she didn't say who they were. Of course, I want to know.
Other reports of naughtiness involved our members complaining that there weren't enough shrimp on the buffet line, and Gino Carbonara receiving some, uh, oral gratification in the bathroom from a Mrs. Antoinette Domenic. Both of these individuals are married and I found myself wanting to know the source of this information and whether it was the men's or women's bathroom where the deed took place.
And Gino Carbonara is just gross. I wouldn't put any part of him in my mouth. he lives in The Alcove, so naturally he is a bit of a freak. I have often thought of him as being strangely effeminate. He looks like he has had some procedures and he sort of seems like he is wearing eye makeup. He bears the distinction of having the most parking violations of any one in Wide Lawns. I don't think his barcodes will ever work again because they are all suspended. He has too many cars and you aren't allowed to park on the street in the Alcove, so he gets a ticket practically every day, and he just keeps paying them and not caring. I don't know where he gets his money, but he owns a little restaurant called Gino's Good Time Cafe, but its not the sort of place that would ever buy a house in The Alcove and all the cars to illegally park on the street in front of it. My natural inclination is to assume that someone is up to no good when it comes to mysterious money, but maybe I'm just cynical.
I don't know anything about Mrs. Domenic, but we looked up her picture and she looks like a New Jersey mall girl of exactly the type who would go for Gino Carbonara, so this gave some credibility to the story. Then we looked up her husband and he looked cast from the same mold.
I have more information on the arrest of the Shrimp Prince. It turns out that he had, so far two accomplices working with him, and they were, get this... Middle Schoolers. They aren't even old enough to drive, they live in the absolute finest community in all of Basura, and they are out stealing cars. The Shrimp Prince has now been connected to 30, yes you heard me, 30 car thefts. He had $25,000.00 cash in his bank account. Clearly the Shrimp Prince is a moron, and unlike his dad, he has not watched enough Sopranos episodes to understand that you do not deposit money you make from breaking the law into your own personal checking account. You bury it in the backyard for goodness sakes, or you keep it under your mattress with your dirty magazines and the stash of weed you dont want your mom to know you smoke. God. So far the other kids who I strongly suspect had a hand in this, have not been arrested. Well, at least we can say the Shrimp Prince is not a rat.