People Watching

I moved my fingers gingerly up and down the stem of my wine glass. I was talking to my sister and somehow the texture of the smooth crystal occupied my hands and focused my mind to listen in on her latest stab at moving up the corporate ladder. I personally never thought of a ladder as something in which I desired approaching. The higher you climb, the thinner the air becomes and the closer you get to the gutters. Which then you must proceed to clean out. No thank you. I raised the glass to my lips and let the grapes linger on my palate. Earthy and subtle. As my sister knelt down to engage my five year old niece I allowed my eyes to graze about the people who had come to my brother’s party.
At the corner of the room, holding his post by the dessert table was a middle aged man who looked as though he had made dessert-table-posting a mainstay in his party routine. He had dark brown hair that was cut in one of those buzzed flat top styles, tempting me to approach him just to see if my wine glass could actually be set upon his head. His eyes looked to be brown, but it was difficult to tell since he seemed to be very involved in the food he was so enjoying. When I caught his eye he gave me a smile and raised his wine glass as if we were old friends that shared some sort of understood camaraderie. I returned the wine salute, deciding to indulge him and his strange social habits since he was all alone in the corner and I felt a measure of pity for him.
My eyes continued to scan the room, stopping at two women, one being my sister in law, Tracy, and the other a short, curly haired woman who was excitedly nodding her head in understanding at whatever gossip Tracy was spilling. I smiled to myself at the visual. Tracy is a towering 6’2’’ and the other lady would probably say she was 5’ but my guess was more in the 4’11 range. I thought to myself that both of these women would quite possibly have sore necks after tonight, however the spice of the gossip seemed to be worth the height inconvenience to both. You can always tell when a conversation is about gossip and not simple drab subjects like the day’s activities or the weather. Tracy and her friend illustrated this perfectly. Both of their eyes had increased in size and were lit up with gleeful astonishment and wonder. Tracy—the teller—had her entire upper body leaning forward toward her listener as if to completely encapsulate the lady in anticipation of the dirt which was about to be revealed, clutching her wine glass so as not to spill anything in the excitement. The other lady—the receiver—was switching off between nodding (mouth ajar), taking a quick swig of her wine (without so much as breaking eye contact…and amazingly still nodding a bit), and spouting the occasional, ‘No!’ at which time her hand went to her mouth as though she was unbelievably appalled and yet thoroughly ecstatic at the news she was receiving. The whole room could have risen up in flames around the pair and they would not have even noticed. The universal picture of gossip. I would be lying if I said I had never engaged in such petty conversations. I am a woman after all—and who among us does not enjoy learning about some sort of scandal that is supposed to remain behind closed doors? You walk away from a conversation like that feeling as though you have obtained something which only a trusted few know about—something which you will then impart to another privileged someone who is trustworthy enough to know.
I looked down at my glass. Empty. The wine was beginning to lay siege against my motor skills, but I retrieved the wine bottle perched on the kitchen counter behind me, deciding that one more glass may yield an even more engaging evening. I amused myself with the thought that I was not unlike the dessert table guy, though my indulgence of the night was of a liquid, tannin-filled variety. Maybe there was substance to our camaraderie after all.