Rock Star Dance Party

As an Editor At Large, I’ve had the fortune/misfortune of being present at some truly hedonistic and bacchanalian parties hosted by some serial rage-aholics, 50 cent, Kid Rock, Phish, Flaming Lips, etc. However, none of these “experiences” could have prepared me for the utter madness of hosting a dozen kids for my son’s fourth B-Day party.

The theme was “rock star dance party”. The idea started when my genius wife decide to make backstage passes for all the guests.  We are not talking crayon, glitter and string; we are talking watermarked laminates with sponsored lanyards. The goodie bags, seemingly omnipresent at every kid’s birthday party these days (side note: when did it become mandatory to give guests presents?  Is it so they don’t wig with envy when the actual person of honor starts ripping into gifts? Seems like a misguided parent placation that needs to stop immediately; kids should learn to suck it up....) included hipster sunglasses, rolls of Necco Wafers, Mardi Gras beads, and of course glo-stick necklaces.  Clearly Martha Stewart has nothing on my wife.

Everything was proceeding swimmingly until my son pulled out his big present, a black First Act acoustic guitar for kids, with silver wings spreading out from the sound hole like a harley’s screaming eagle carburetor (it kicks so much ass, Johnny Cash, God rest his black suited soul would have killed for one of these babies).
He strummed a few distorted chords, and like a Fugazi show gone awry these dozen lunatics started popping smarties, pounding juice boxes, and main lining lemon frosted cup cakes. 

Once the sugar high kicked into overdrive, couches and benches were shoved aside, the pre-amp cranked to eleven, the glo-sticks cracked, and the after show dance party reared it’s maniacal head. Unleashed, these wild eyed tweakers with sweat pouring down their once cherubic cheeks, shucked, jumped and jived with reckless abandon. Like smashing atoms kids careened and caromed. They did moves like the karate chop, the Fonzi, the bird, the Axl Rose, the wheel barrow, the Hanson Brothers (Slap Shot, not Mmm Bop) the windmill and the spastic Charlie Chaplin with such fervor and passion it’s amazing the cops never showed up.

The Soundtrack of the devil’s music kids call Rock and Roll.

“All Together Now” - The Beatles
“Hotel Yorba” - The White Stripes
“My Sweet One” - Phish
“Love” - G. Love
“Licking Stick” - Desmond Dekker
“This Old Man” - Victor Johnson
“Sparkle” - Phish
“Feels So Good” - Toots & The Maytals
“Ain’t Got No Home” - Clarence “Frogman” Henry
“For You Blue” - The Beatles
“Anyway the Wind Blows” JJ Cale
“Got My Own Thing Now” - Squirrel Nut Zippers
“Julius” Phish
“Get Back” - The Beatles

It was a sight only a true music junkie could loveand admire, that is until the music stopped and the sugar high came crashing to a halt.  At which point, the communal sucrose withdrawal caused a disintegrating meltdown of epic proportions.  Babbling hysterical blobs sucked thumbs and rocked themselves into various catatonic states, while twitching jonesers, on hands and knees, scoured the floor for dropped Necco waffers and discarded pastry morsels. Pandemonium, chaos, and complete system shutdowns all ensued, until finally the mothers stepped in to restore law and order.

Soon the house lights came on and the bleary eyed kids filed out in their Mom’s arms to the SUV’s and Mini-Vans idling in the driveway like suburban limos; strangely, it reminded me of the time I witnessed an early morning fire alarm at the Chateau Marmont.  Inside candy wrappers, paper streamers and empty juices boxes lay strewn everywhere, while a couple of three year olds remained crashed out on the couch.

I looked at my wife, the ring master and promoter of the successful event and laughed.  I answered her quizzical stare with, “Just think about when he turns Sweet Sixteen.”