BAD PARTY. BAD, BAD PARTY!

Dearest Friends,

From that point on, it seemed that we had at least two or three parties per month to go to.  There were a couple of outdoor parties, before the weather cooled down, at the one housing complex that actually had a pool (where at least one guy would always piss the women off by drinking enough to find himself thinking "Wow, I have a great idea!  Why don't I jump off that roof or balcony, into the pool!", and where my friend Paula always carried a bottle in her hand -- to brain someone with, should they take a notion to toss her into the pool); there was Casino Night at the American Club, and Singapore Night at the Gulf Hotel; there were a couple of wild parties thrown by the bachelors, and lots of game nights at friend's houses; there were big holiday potlucks, birthday parties, and small dinner parties; and then there was the party to end all parties -- and I don't mean that in a good way, for it almost did just that!

Usually, I made all of my own clothes, but when I heard that the American Women's Association would be hosting a big Christmas dance at the Pearl Restaurant on December 15th, I decided it was time for a splurge!  I picked out a piece of raw silk in a beautiful purple shade, and had a tailor turn it into a gorgeous evening gown for me.  Unfortunately, the style was not all that flattering to my figure.  I had to be very careful to stand up straight and keep my stomach sucked in when I wore it, which is hard to do when you are dancing and having fun!  Then I spent 2 1/2 hours at the salon, letting G. style my hair into a fancy up-do.  Again, not flattering!

I've been going back and forth for days over posting this, I hate that hair-do so much!

Despite all this, I wrote in my diary that we "had a great time!"  No, it wasn't until a day or two later that the trauma really began.  That's when I reported waking up "with a case of the runs."  Good thing it was my day off.  The next evening, John had an upset stomach too.  He was up all night, but insisted on going to work the next day.  He didn't make it through the whole day though.  He came home early and went straight to bed, eating nothing.  I thought I was doing better, but on Tuesday I woke up with "a serious case of dysentery!", and couldn't go to work or eat a thing all day.  Thank heavens the next day was a holiday.

A few days later, when we finally felt well enough to go out into public again, we went to a dance at the club.  That's when we found out that we weren't the only ones who had been suffering.  As it turns out, pretty much everyone who attended the dinner dance at the Pearl had fallen ill!  We had several more relapses after that (I remember having to stop right in the middle of opening our presents, on Christmas morning, to "jet to the john") but we eventually recovered, as did everyone else.