When party poopers are too pooped to pop

by Tom Vartabedian

Published: Monday January 17, 2011

"I can stand the smell of liquor. But I sure hate listening to it.". Haik Gugarats

Haverhill, Mass. - I like parties just as much as the next guy. But sad to say, some are b-o-r-i-n-g and downright obnoxious.

They leave me limp and laggard. I find myself gazing at the clock, wondering if it would be ideal to take our leave without offending the host.

You casually stand by, hoping for someone else to leave, so you won't be that conspicuous.

"Time for us to buzz along, too," you say, after the Hagopians grabbed their coats and hats. "Great party, George."

I know a couple who's become my hero because they are "sudden leavers." They're the first to arrive at a party and the first to leave.

"Well, it's getting way past our bedtime," they'll proclaim. "Time to hit the road. Thanks for everything. We had a swell time."

And out the door they'll vamoose, quicker than a flash. Everybody is either stunned or looking to follow their lead.

A lot of us would like to be sudden leavers. And the conversation turns to something like this.

One pokes the other in the ribs and says, "Guess it's about time we started thinking about considering to get ready to talk about going."

"Nonsense," shrieks the other spouse. "We just got here. The party's just warming up. Go grab yourself another glass of wine."

We feel we must apologize for leaving so abruptly, knowing as we do, that the guests will be lost without our presence. Actually, nine times out of 10, nobody really gives a hoot whether you leave early or not. So we make excuses.

"But I do have to get up early and crank out a column after I do my exercise. Writers and fitness buffs keep odd hours, don't you know?"

Or else. "Afraid I left my headache pills in my other pants.

And the overall classic, "Just remembered we left the pilot on under tomorrow's beef stew. Don't want the house to catch fire."

Not these Hagopians. "Swell time," they would say, standing up, waving good-byes and walking toward their coats --- and out the door. They make a perfect get-away and are home at a reasonable hour while the rest of us are fighting to stay awake.

I can stand the smell of liquor. But I sure hate listening to it. There's nothing more revolting at a party than to have some stiff stifle me by the booze on his breath. Or be forced into laughing at a bad joke.

There are symptoms for early dismissal, especially if you want to catch the late show on TV. Every party-goer must unwind, no matter what the hour.

What troubles me most about wanting to leave a party is the actual get-up-and-go. In other words, it takes repartee to become a departee.

I have a cousin who drives her husband up a wall. Before she leaves, the last word never ends. She carries on this long-winded farewell with each guest while he stands impatiently behind, jacket in hand, and mute as a doorknob.

"We've been at this party for five hours now and you'd think Rose would run out of things to say," he muses.

Of course, the shoe's on the other foot when the guys break up into a card game and the wife plants a nudge, "One last hand," you tell her. "A guy can't quit the poker game when he's ahead."

We were at a party last week, much to our regret. It was a case of "they owed us one." The night was filled with a thousand I's. The host kept yapping about his dexterity on a tennis court, his promotion in the machine factory, and his superiority in handling the family budget.

My ears didn't deserve this. For two hours, we wanted to leave but they kept us caged. It wasn't until I was ready to give them my Social Security number did they agree to release us from bondage.

A good host will sense the boredom and prompt a departure. All he has to do to get rid of company is start talking about his fishing trip. If that doesn't work, then he can always pass along his political views --- or talk religion.

The hosts I admire the most carry on stimulating conversations, drink in moderation, and let you leave when the time is ripe. Could just be they want an empty home --- and some comfort, too.

"When the evening starts to bore me.
My yawns I try to stifle.
I'm too polite to say, ‘Let's go!'
But how I hope my wife will."