Bata Extravaganza

A few months earlier, the famous Christmas of 1993 we will call it for the sake of the story, another of the famous Bata Extravaganza's took place, something that was far removed from any of the Dowty Christmas parties for a significant reason.

No Dowty Christmas event ever had an open bar.

Karen was working in the payroll department at Bata, and to boot downtown in lovely Don Mills, a fantastic daily drive experience, especially in the winter months, and at the time, she was driving there in the family biscuit tin, the Ford festiva, and particularly exciting with a full set of severely bald tires.

Acknowledging that she had attended the shoe emporium for another year through all types of driving conditions they had presented her the annual unlimited access to booze at their holiday party festivus, and that was one thing we as a family unit would surely not miss, regardless of the weather. As a responsible thing, we always booked ourselves into the party hotel for the night.

I cannot brag here, I am sincerely a terrible drinker and an absolute child when it comes to free.

The event went as usual that Christmas, an initial cocktail hour, full on complimentary bar, followed by a parade into the main room, a formal three course meal, entertainment and jollity, and of course, prizes for the executives, management and key employees.

I wasn't any of the above, and in that first hour, especially with winks and nods from the enthusiastic bartender, I took absolute full advantage of the free bar, in addition, I was talking to one of Karen's workmate's husbands, and we got into a "fuckemall" type conversation. I went toe to toe, drink for drink with the guy, trouble was, a factoid I missed at the time, he had at least twice the body mass of my little self.

So the dinner gong went off, everyone paraded into the dining room, and me and Tom squeezed in another double before joining them all at the tables, for the celebration of managemental loveliness.

I decided to go for a quick toilet break and in the process my trouser button exploded. I found that I could zip up my pants but the top was spread out, so I had an issue and I went to the dining room and told Karen I would have to go to our room and install a button.

Time passed apparently.

This is my account, but apparently Karen's story is quite different which may be detailed later, regardless, the ending of my particular story was that I was happily asleep on the bed in the hotel room when the light went on, some crazy lady, presumably Karen, which I doubt as she very rarely uses any type of expletive, came up and loomed over me, said something that an experienced sailor might say and then the light went off and I smiled and went back off into a deep sleep.

Oblivious of any trouble I may have been in.