PARTY TALK

Several years ago, I was invited to a fancy, black tie New Year’s Eve party at the home of a friend in San Francisco. Besides the three catering companies that the hostess had hired, there were a cartoonist, a fortuneteller and an opera singer to entertain the 500 guests that roamed about the house and gardens. Every room in the house overflowed with people, and as the evening wore on the guests got louder and louder as alcohol clogged their ears and the music played on.

Not knowing anyone---other than the hostess and her mother (who had escaped the festivities by hiding in her bedroom and locking the door) I roamed from room to room on each level of the magnificent mansion.

After tasting food that each caterer had prepared, I sat on a sofa and made extremely small talk with whoever sat down next to me. It was easy since no one ever listens at this kind of party. So I could say whatever I chose to say such as, “I just returned from a trip to The Queensland Coast.” And the woman next to me asked, “How was it?” I said, “Extremely Australian.”  “Lovely,” she said as she got up to talk to someone she recognized.

I finally climbed the stairs to the third floor ballroom, where people were gyrating madly to the beat of the band. Sipping on a glass of wine, I overheard a young woman tell her companions that she had been accepted into nursing school, and that it came at a fortuitous time, because her grandfather had passed away and left her a sizable inheritance. Also, she had recently broken her engagement to a man who got fired from his job for doing some hanky panky with the firm’s funds.

Finally, I tired of watching the dancers and made my way back down to the second floor, where people were lined up to have a session with the fortuneteller. I spied the young woman in line, who I had seen in the ballroom, and I said, “Excuse me, but you really don’t have to stay in line to get your fortune told. I am a psychic and I can do it for you.” She was most impressed. After all, I knew the hostess. I wore a fancy dress and I looked pretty honest. So, we, and some of her friends sat down for the psychic event.

I held her hand and told her that she was very fortunate to be rid of the deadbeat she had been engaged to. I also told her that her grandfather loved her a lot to leave her such a fortune, and that he was very proud of her, because she was going to nursing school. Then I left her, and her friends, who were the only speechless people in the room.

On the main floor, the opera singer was working on her “Do” “Re” “Mi’s,” when a woman approached me. “I am so impressed,” she said. “I have never seen a real psychic in action. You are wonderful!  How did you know all of that information about the young woman upstairs?”  I told her, “Don’t be too impressed, I heard her tell her friends that story in the ballroom.” She looked at me and said, “I know that’s not true.  I read that you psychics are very selective.” And then she whispered, “Can you tell me just a little something about me?” At that, I handed her my untouched glass and said, “I know you will enjoy this glass of wine. It was a very good year.”  She thanked me profusely as I left.

Happy New Year!  Take my word for it, 2017 will be another year. Have I ever lied to you before?

Esther Blumenfeld