SA mixer: 2 parts trust fund, 1 part philanthropy, and long bar lines
Green wristbands abounded at an “adults-only” mixer held last Thursday at Ácenar on Houston Street. MESH was an evening of multiple purposes and veiled intentions, the most benign being to meet, chat, and carouse with scores of people you know or will eventually know. Some familiar faces couldn’t pass up such an enticing soiree: Councilman Roger Flores graced the laypeople of the Alamo city with his presence the day his Main Plaza opposition went down in a 9-2 defeat at City Hall.
It’s uncanny how sweating together and watching for the server with the silver tray of hors d’oeuvre unites people. I expected to see women sizing each other up and was satisfied when many delivered — the ferocity is inescapable in environs like that. Weaving through a crowd of hot bodies neatly packed together is a challenge I choose not to take on too frequently. When I did venture through the lusting quagmire, hands full of inebriants, some people didn’t make way so I could slip by. People who behave so rudely in adulthood were usually the kids in elementary school who cut in the lunch line on mashed-potato day. I know the type well.
The wait for bar service was, at times, inappropriately long, and became a test of endurance, or perhaps prioritization. The food was free, but it seemed to be inconsistently available throughout the night. I rarely saw the cute waiter with the red-and-white polka-dot scarf. I sympathized with her, though, because weaving in and out of the crowd, gently nudging conversations in your direction so you can implore guests to try your mini-chorizo-and-refried-bean-’n’-cheese gorditas gets very tiring.
There was an eclectic mixture of people at MESH, making for a functional and entertaining evening of networking. The broad age range was pleasantly surprising for a 10 p.m.-2 a.m. weeknight party. My boss at the Greater Edwards Aquifer Alliance was one of the event’s sponsors, so talking business was inevitable. I met some local kids who subsist on trust funds, and members of the boards of various philanthropic entities, and caught lewd snippets of personal conversations. The Elvis and Marilyn impersonators were especially ... chic. Everyone wants to be a rock star, or at least party like one, so flip up your collar, slip on some shades because its 11 p.m., and the world is effectively yours for the taking.
- Francesca Camillo