For many people seeking a wild Saturday Night, the idea of going to a Quiet Party would be about as appealing as a trip to the library. But me? I'm curious. It was an idea started by a couple of New Yorkers, and it seems to have caught on in Manhattan. Here's the thing: you go into the bar, and you can't talk. No blaring music, no people screaming "WHERE ARE YOU FROM" at each other. Blissful silence. The tables will have paper tablecloths and index cards and scraps of paper for people to write notes to each other. According to the press on these parties, people write little snippets such as:
"Talking is so early '90s."
"No slurping. This is a quiet party!"
"Is it bad manners to read other people's leftover notes?"
"Do you write here often?"
The guy I am talking to is too old. Let's switch. No thank you.
Hop if you're cute.
Scream if you hate me.
I have to go home now — I've disgraced myself.
Some write out complicated math equations or brief one-act plays. I was very good at passing notes in Junior High, which is the last time I tried this. I bet it's like riding a bike. And you probably lose some inhibitions when you're being funny and writing instead of talking. This idea especially appeals to me in D.C., because I don't imagine anyone would bother to write "Sooooo....do you work on the Hill?" or "I handle telecom for Senator blablablah." It'll be like the time we were all playing "Asshole" and Athena became "President" and her rule was that the annoying red-headed girl was not allowed to talk anymore, and then everyone had a really great time. It might be too much of a singles scene for my unavailable self, but if you don't want to "talk" to someone, I suppose you could just close your eyes or respond in Cyrillic and pretend you don't read English.