Christmas in Seattle

I went to the 3W/NSU Christmas Party alone. Because that's how I roll. Like 31 years of rolling like that. I didn't realize that basically everyone else there brought a guest until Rose, a nurse I'd never met, introduced herself to me, prompted me to smile and surprised me by snapping a picture. Of me. Alone. I don't want to smile, Rose! This is sad! It's Christmas, for crying out loud.

The party was at Pabla's Punjabi Palace in a strip mall by the airport. There was naan, daal, paneer masala, samosas, goat curry. All but the last of these are currently in my proximal esophagus. The Indian nurses from work were dressed beautifully in shimmering sarees, Baliwood movies played in the background; a group in sequined silver dancing around a prominent female, something about professional assassins killing a taxi driver's son, a girl in love with a boy named Amit.

We were encouraged to dance, and dance we did, to the most desultory mix of music I've ever heard: Michael Jackson's Billy Jean, Take a Chance on Me by ABBA, Hindi Pop, the Jackson 5, Thriller, more Hindi pop.

I think I'll remember the way the holidays were celebrated here.