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Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Had us a party.


If you’ve ever bought a keg of beer in the States, you’re familiar with the large onus American beer distributors put on the small-scale buyer. You need to put down a deposit on the keg, provide your own tub, fill the tub with ice, rent a hand pump tap, and then pump the beer out of the keg with good old-fashioned elbow grease. Here in Hungary they make drinking beer much easier. I went to the brewery outlet and picked up a keg. With that keg I was given a CO2 tank and a tap that runs the beer through refrigerated tubes – no deposit and very little hassle. The amazing thing is, despite all this great service, barely anyone in Hungary buys kegs. At our party the general consensus was that the keg was ingenious, but a novelty. Everyone was happy the keg was there, but I don’t think we’re going to start a trend.

That, however, proved to be the only disappointment of the party. The event was an overwhelming success. A very mixed crowd started drifting in after four, and by eight we had nearly fifty people eating appetizers, kebabs off the grill, drinking beer, cocktails, and spirits. The festivities continued until about two in the morning. We chalked up a visit from the local police, who proved to be the nicest cops in the universe. They actually insisted that we keep the music at the party-friendly level it had been at all night. The only reason they visited was because Arpi, an excitable friend of ours, got a little too excited while defending the valor of his favorite Hungarian football team. The language got a little earthy, and some neighbors with children put in a call. The only other bump in the road was when Hari, Dora’s MBA schoolmate, started trying to DJ. I had put together a nice eclectic play list for the event, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the music. But after a beer or two too many, Hari thought he was DJ-fucking-Shadow or something. He kept starting a song and changing it after ninety seconds. When I told him to stop, he gave me a thumbs up and changed the song again.

Lessons learned, lock the keyboard before people get drunk, always get a keg, and don’t get Arpi going about Fradi.

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