After Party in Santa Monica

CrownPeak took over the Spitfire Grill (not pictured) at the Santa Monica Airport for our Holiday party this week. Cool restaurant with the requisite glory days aero motif. Our group of fifty pretty much filled the place. Whether or not you drink, you learn a lot about people during a party. For one, our fearless leader, CEO Jim Howard was truly giddy about his quest to bring the perfect wine for each of the 5 or so courses to be served. I don't know how much time he spent during deliberations, but the result was a series of wonderful 'vinos' throughout the evening. I won't elaborate further and expose my ignorance on such matters. To a true connoisseur the best description I could possibly muster would sound something like, 'wheelie yummy wed stuff in the clinky glass! Yeah!' So, I'll leave it at that.

It was announced that we won two Webbies this year! For those with a first life, The Webbies are the academy awards for internet folk. And by 'we' I mean my co-workers like Denise Duncan, my mentor at CP and the drummer for The Transmissions, who did all of the excellent work on MSPMag.com before I got there. Can't take credit for any of it. I was off fighting the eCash wars at the time. Congrats Denise! You know, that kind of 'we'.

As the traditional holiday party meal and chatter was winding down, I had migrated to what was left of the sales and marketing table and someone there suggested we keep the night going by heading to the lobby bar at Casa del Mar. I had no feel for if that was a good or bad suggestion, but hey, 'lobby bar at Casa del Mar' rhymed, so that was enough for me.

As we started to make our polite goodbyes at The Spitfire and shuffle toward the door I decided to ask some of the developers and CSD's like me to come along. I was met with wide eyed wonder or utter disdain, 'that's where the beautiful people are' was the singular reply. My only retort was 'everyone is beautiful, in their own way' or some other random, antiquated song lyric - and luckily, a few of them bought it or didn't hear me and came along for the ride.

We got to the Casa (now see pic, above) and she is a truly grand old hotel built with quality and craftsmanship equaling the best of Europe. In the lobby has a large and tasteful open seating area and a patio that overlooks the Pacific Ocean. Leaning on the 50 seat bar, someone squealed, this is like Vegas! I quickly attempted to set him straight by defining terms like facade, neon and 'room crawling with high-class hookers.' I learned that in L.A. they call 'em fans.

Turns out, Casa del Mar is the place where Mel Gibson had his 'moment of doubt and pain' but mostly racism. It is also the place where members of our group had last seen Lindsey Lohan. On the other hand, David Haselhoff, contrary to popular belief, did NOT eat the burger here. Ah, yes, the beautiful people.

Beautiful, indeed. I guess these 'beautiful people' are a bit like watching 3D movies. You wear some paper two tone glasses (1/2 money, 1/2 fame, in this case), sit very still and don't think too much about what you're seeing and you might be able to keep the illusion.

They are people just like the rest of us - making mistakes, choices good and bad, getting hooked and unhooked on stuff and trying to make their way in the world. It's just that they do it in front of a 16:9 camera with 2% bodyfat and a thousand watt smile.

Speaking of a thousand watts, I learned that the Casa del Mar has a subtle way of letting people know that last call has come and gone. At 2:30am sharp they throw on every light in the place. Unannounced. Full blast. Whether you've been drinking wine or Jack and Coke or not at all, this is a shock to the system. It is an unnatural act that should be outlawed in California just like smoking and gasoline cars.

Picture the flash of a hundred camera strobes, except the flash doesn't disappear, it stays. Picture the moment when the guard stops slapping you after dunking your head in water and forcefully bends your neck back and turn that single beam of white evil into your toothpick clamped, forced open eyes (see exhibit A, below). This is not right.

At this point everyone in our group cowers and lurches toward the front door and the promise of re-darkness (at least I do, anyway). Thanks, Casa! Thanks a lot. No wonder Mel was so upset.

After four years in Vegas and the no-no-never-ever-last-call-culture this was especially painful.

Torture isn't the word, but it's the only one that comes to mind.

Somehow we survived. It was a great party and really good to get to know some of my new co-workers (not pictured).