When You’re Not Feeling It: the art and science of leaving the party early

A practical guide to giving yourself a break, saying goodbyes and getting the fuck out of there.

About the author of this pamphlet

Party expert and dance icon Dr. Boogie Woogie says: “I don’t know why you’d ever want to leave, but here’s how I reckon I’d do it.”

Follow each step carefully for sweet relief, guaranteed!

Begin by closely observing the layout of the event space: there’s the front door of course, but is there a fire escape, or an unlocked bathroom window?

Laila cursed the lack of Network ports, the disappearance of the only ANT, and Fol’brdr itself, that gravity constrained her to the surface of this party planet. She looked hopelessly past the Grand Brdraekri Temple to the heavens. There wasn’t an emergency exit sign in sight, metaphorically or otherwise.

Ensure you know a safe route home; perhaps call a friend to meet you outside or a taxi to pick you up.

The Sentient Node was clearly enjoying itself now and a little buzzed; its blue hue cycling through indigo, purples and ultraviolet light. She was going to regret this. Laila sidled over to it and struck up conversation.

“Hey, did you see the Anterprise leave earlier?”

The Sentient Node didn’t register her.

“You know, my ride?” The orb still said nothing. “Well it left with Xylax and a couple Lailas for the future. I was wondering if you knew how long it’d be before they’re back?”

“Huh?”

Laila was beginning to suspect the node was a little less sentient than usual right now. She decided to try a different tack.

“Good party, right? Say, how did you arrive here? You wouldn’t have come in any sort of physical craft would you?”

There was a painful pause as the orb flickered yellow.

“Yes. It is a gooooood party. You are correct.”

Well done. Now you have a plan of escape, you’re ready to make your move. Excuse yourself from any conversations and seek out the host. Remember, be courteous. Tell them what a great party it has been, make your apologies and firmly state that you are leaving.

“Sorry Mx. Node. I’ve got to go. Like over there, for a bit.”

“Mmmmmm. Yes. Over there.”

As Laila slunk backwards she wondered which of her conversations with the Sentient Node had been worse. She turned and scoured the grounds for any locals who weren’t busy being exploited as literal oompa loompas. An elderly figure was manning a makeshift bar and idly shining the optics.

“Hey, great party, thanks so much.”

“It’s not even begun. Just you wait.” She said with a glint in her eye.

“Oh yes, I’m sure it gets wilder and wilder. But I better be going, do you have any like, space or time travel vessels, devices, that sort of thing? The other Lailas are keen on staying, on account of what a great party it is and all. But it’s not for me. So do you have anything like that, at all?”

The woman blinked.

“You’re not having a good time? We’ve been to a lot of effort. We plan this festival for months each year.”

“Oh no, no, no. Like I said, it’s a great party, thank you. I was just wondering if you had any way that I could, like, leave. You know?”

Laila shone her most friendly smile.

“How dare you? Perhaps you are afraid of our potent psychoactive flora, that is not uncommon, but it is no excuse for rudeness.” The woman’s tone warmed, “Have a drink, relax. I am sure you will be in the party spirit soon enough.”

Any party host worth their salt should slap down your request to leave the function early. Do not worry, everything is proceeding properly and in this instance you can simply feign tiredness or sickness. Now, head to the bathroom, securely bolt the door, and hide while you regroup after your pathetic attempt to bail.

“Excuse me, I don’t feel great. I’ll come back for a drink after I use the bathroom. Do you know where it is?”

The woman sighed and pointed at a walkway that ran along the base of the temple steps.

“Try not to take too long.”

Laila thanked her and, still making an effort to look peaky, hobbled off to the bathroom and heaved shut the door behind her.

It was a little fortress of a washroom. The walls and door were all made from thick blocks of a dense yellow-ish rock. She clicked the ornate wrought-iron locking system into place and took a big breath.

Though it was disconcertingly tomb-like, it felt safe in here. The party outside was the prison. Laila wandered over to a cubicle and thumbed through the conscientiously curated pile of magazines and pamphlets, she might be here a while after all. One in particular caught her eye.

When in the bathroom, take a long hard look in the mirror. Do you really want to leave the party? Are you sure you’re not having a great time? Maybe you should try harder and give it another go…

Oh, what’s that? You really do want to leave? Boring. Yawn. Okay. Well here are some other options, though as a doctor of danceology I would personally never choose any of these:

Take several shots of tequila (or similar) and make a pass at the host. You will be kicked out of the party for your indiscretion, you disgusting pervert. Note: read the room. If this is a party with orgies, your host may reciprocate and you won’t be kicked out, but you will end up having a great time. Loudly fake a phone call you’re receiving about a fatal accident concerning a loved one. Be as dramatic as possible. Why not dampen your eyes with water from the bathroom tap first? This option relies on the host caring about you and your pathetic non-partying life. Continue to hide in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time, make sure all the partygoers are hallucinating out of their mind, and steal the only means of transport to get home, stranding everyone else at Party Central.

Several days later, Laila emerged from the bathroom and craned her neck up. The party had certainly gone up a notch. An electronic, repetitious warbling pulsed fervently. Laila had felt before she’d heard any melody: the bass frequencies shaking the bathroom fixtures and her insides the past 16 hours. Everyone was sat on the steps in the glow of the Scarlet Flame and looking, mouths agape, into the empty night air over the clearing. They were in various states of undress and completely out of it.

The Ebrdrskrr flower has a unique psychoactive property in that it triggers communal hallucinations. Groups trip together and can collectively influence and be influenced by the images and sounds. Laila had no idea what they were seeing in the air, but they were transfixed and that worked for her. She spotted towards the end of the congregation a topless Commander Xylax, now that was a good sign.

And sure enough, there on the edge of the clearing was an unguarded Anterprise. The keys were still in the ignition and the door left hanging invitingly open. This might actually be easy. The partygoers burst into a chorus of laughter. Evidently the chemically-induced imaginings were going well. Good for them, Laila thought and wandered casually over to the ANT.

“Where the hell have you been?” A Laila strode over from the bar with a stony face.

“I was, er, in the bathroom. Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. I drew the short straw today, I’m the trip sitter. Things can get pretty out of hand with Ebrdrskrr if there’s no sober heads around to de-escalate. And now I find out there was another sober Laila spare all along.”

“Well I can take over for you if you like.”

“What? You’re not going to join in?” Trip-sitter Laila looked her over with faint suspicion.

“Oh, no, I’d love to.” Laila lied, “But I’m still wrecked from yesterday. I need a breather.”

The Laila didn’t need much convincing; she already had the flower in her mouth and was lighting up.

“Okay, great! Just don’t let everyone start killing each other or anything generally bad, you know?”

Laila watched as she headed up the steps to sit with the rest of the revellers and waited until she too was pointing gleefully in unison at unseen figures.

The Anterprise was ready and waiting. Laila strode over and clicked the door shut behind her with no further complications. She surveyed the controls. The Lailas might have seen the Meitagenean Civil War coming, but they didn’t see this.

After you leave the party, you may feel shame, regret or embarrassment. You should definitely go back, bang on the door, and demand to be let back in – that wouldn’t be embarrassing at all. Alternatively, you may feel relief, you weirdo. But if you chose option C earlier, you’re a sort of Party Jesus – you sacrificed your own partying so that everyone else could party forever – and I won’t hold that against you as an academic who takes a strictly Utilitarian-Partying position.

Now you’ve left, decide how you’ll spend the rest of your night. Get straight into bed and go to sleep? Call your boyfriend and tearfully tell him you miss him? Obsessively research mundane ways to fix a domestic appliance? Or find another party down the road and introduce yourself as the Party Jesus and let the good times roll?

I know which I would choose.

Signed, Dr. Boogie Woogie

Laila’s finger hovered over the display in the ANT. It was easy to leave, but difficult to know where to go. Laila didn’t have a home to go to. She didn’t have a purpose. She was cut out from time here, from cause and effect, from any meaningful agency.

That light in the sky looked awfully pretty, in a bittersweet sort of way. For some reason, she felt like heading over there and just thinking about Naomi for a bit. And being alone for a bit. The only Laila.

Maybe she could even watch that star be born, and then explode a few dozen times to feel better? It’d only take a little tinkering to find the right time and coordinates to have a front seat view. She readied the craft.

Laila wound down the window, stuck out her middle finger and shouted out to all the other Lailas up on the temple: “Party Jesus Forgives You!”

And promptly disappeared.

“Did you hear that?” one Laila blearily asked another.

“Haaaahaahaaa” the Laila responded pointing in the air at a 15-storey hallucination of Jesus that was partying on down in the middle of the forest.

All the Lailas looked up in gurning delight at the debauched sight. All the Lailas, except one.