Writers Guild of America East. Holiday Party.
You pay your quarterly dues. You give them a cut of every dime you make in the entertainment industry. And once a year, you get a few hours of an open bar and a little bit of food.
This year, I wasn't sent an invitation. Despite the fact that my dues are all paid up and I'm in "good standing". I wouldn't have even known about it had I not checked the website and did a last minute RSVP.
Let me tell you, O My Brothers, I was ready to fight the old lady manning the guest list if my name wasn't on there. I was going to this fucking thing and getting my free goddamn drinks no matter what.
No fight necessary, alas. My name was on there with my +1.
These WGAE holiday parties have gone way downhill since I started going to them. First two years, they were held at the Friar's Club
, which is just dripping with history. Third year, the ballroom of some hotel. Fourth year, some space up in Columbia. This year, a generic loft space in Gramercy. (Next year, I think they're gonna just reserve a few tables at a Boston Market.)
As you stepped in, wait staff walked around with little chicken pot pie hors d'œuvres.
Main course— mini roast beef sandwich bites, salmon with mango salsa, wild rice, radicchio salad. (Appears they were trying to be more healthy this year.)
For dessert— little brownie things, a bread pudding dish with accompanying sauces.
Well, it's hard to complain when it's free. Of course, I pay a shitload of money to be a member of this union.
That's the last company holiday party of the season for me. Prolific, Spurlock's production company and WGAE. Now, we race toward the end of this year.