Ghosts
When Scott, the assistant organizer of the International Meetup, told me he was thinking of hosting a Super Bowl party, I thought he meant that he was going to email invitations to a few of his closest friends on the Meetup. Instead, he put it openly on the website. We were both a little puzzled when a handful of people who had never come to a meeting before made RSVPs, but I chalked it up to my own not-quite-getting sports. I mean, I can see the appeal of going to a Super Bowl party with some good friends, but I can't see why someone would watch with a bunch of strangers at someone else's house. Maybe with strangers in a bar, but I don't know.
The three none of us had met before were Ming, Abby and Vanessa. (And now I backtrack to say that because it's the International Meetup, I understand why someone would come to a stranger's football party if they were Chinese. Maybe it's better not explained.) Ming had gone to college in Indiana, and he arrived wearing a Colts t-shirt. Vanessa had commented on the website that she LOVES football! and she was attentive for the first twenty minutes of the game. Then she started chatting with Abby and did not stop until the game was over.
There was plenty of food--everyone brought something, and everyone brought lots. Scott had picked up giant cookies at an Italian bakery. I was the first to try one, a peanut-butter cookie with chocolate frosting that I nibbled away at for an hour. I told him I hated myself for how much I loved that cookie. I told him that in a few days I'd ask him where he got the cookies and he needed to promise me he wouldn't tell me.
During one of the less-entertaining commercial breaks, we mostly turned to the middle of the room and, because a commercial for CSI was on, talked about crime procedural shows. Then we talked about shows with hokey plot twists, and Vanessa mentioned some kind of five-year plot jump in the series Ghost Whisperer, saying it was hokey.
Scott laughed. "What do you expect? It's a show about someone who whispers to ghosts."
Vanessa shifted in her seat. "You mean, you don't believe in ghosts?" Scott, taken aback, mildly noted that he doesn't. Vanessa said that it didn't matter whether he believes in ghosts or not, because they're real.
This led to a spirited debate (oy vey, the pun) between Vanessa and Abby. Vanessa's central claim was, "Ghosts must be real, because I see them all the time." Abby's claim was, "Ghosts can't be real, because Jesus would never let that happen."
After the game wrapped up and people filed out, a core group of four of us stayed to gossip about the people we just met. "What was that about?" Scott asked. We agreed that we'd never expected that a Super Bowl party would become a supernatural debate. Scott said, "I knew I should just say out of it, but then 'drew, you started making fun of them."
I said, "Really?" I couldn't remember making fun. Scott assured me that once the ghost conversation started I turned to him and put on a spooky voice to say, "Sco-o-o-o-ott! There are gho-o-o-sts in your apa-a-a-rtment!" And once he mentioned it, I had to admit it was probably true. I chalked it up to being possessed.
The three none of us had met before were Ming, Abby and Vanessa. (And now I backtrack to say that because it's the International Meetup, I understand why someone would come to a stranger's football party if they were Chinese. Maybe it's better not explained.) Ming had gone to college in Indiana, and he arrived wearing a Colts t-shirt. Vanessa had commented on the website that she LOVES football! and she was attentive for the first twenty minutes of the game. Then she started chatting with Abby and did not stop until the game was over.
There was plenty of food--everyone brought something, and everyone brought lots. Scott had picked up giant cookies at an Italian bakery. I was the first to try one, a peanut-butter cookie with chocolate frosting that I nibbled away at for an hour. I told him I hated myself for how much I loved that cookie. I told him that in a few days I'd ask him where he got the cookies and he needed to promise me he wouldn't tell me.
During one of the less-entertaining commercial breaks, we mostly turned to the middle of the room and, because a commercial for CSI was on, talked about crime procedural shows. Then we talked about shows with hokey plot twists, and Vanessa mentioned some kind of five-year plot jump in the series Ghost Whisperer, saying it was hokey.
Scott laughed. "What do you expect? It's a show about someone who whispers to ghosts."
Vanessa shifted in her seat. "You mean, you don't believe in ghosts?" Scott, taken aback, mildly noted that he doesn't. Vanessa said that it didn't matter whether he believes in ghosts or not, because they're real.
This led to a spirited debate (oy vey, the pun) between Vanessa and Abby. Vanessa's central claim was, "Ghosts must be real, because I see them all the time." Abby's claim was, "Ghosts can't be real, because Jesus would never let that happen."
After the game wrapped up and people filed out, a core group of four of us stayed to gossip about the people we just met. "What was that about?" Scott asked. We agreed that we'd never expected that a Super Bowl party would become a supernatural debate. Scott said, "I knew I should just say out of it, but then 'drew, you started making fun of them."
I said, "Really?" I couldn't remember making fun. Scott assured me that once the ghost conversation started I turned to him and put on a spooky voice to say, "Sco-o-o-o-ott! There are gho-o-o-sts in your apa-a-a-rtment!" And once he mentioned it, I had to admit it was probably true. I chalked it up to being possessed.