Take a crispy egg roll, dip it in Chinese hot mustard and -- while sputtering -- look across the crowded room blurred by eye-watering to see if there is anyone you know.
Choose the plumpest scallop from the passed hors d’oeuvres. Attempt to eat it in one bite, and come really close to choking to death.
Attempt to regain your footing with your fellow cocktail partyers, by suavely asking the bartender, whom you don’t know, to “Mix something fabulous, pal, to wash down that infernal crustacean.” The bartender replies, “Sure, pal.”
Some big wig eating beef Wellington, says, “Crustacean! My word! These people are amateurs! Scallops are bivalves.”
The drink you get is fabulous; it’s seventeen straws emerging from a coconut. Laugh as if you are on stage. Say in a loud voice that this drink is called The Board of Trustees.
The million dollar ask is over by the canapés; but you’ve just eaten heartily of spinach artichoke dip.
On the way over, a server pushes extra-large sushi piled high with pale uncooked geoduck and orange flying fish roe. What can you do but take one, in your rush?
As you smile your most foxish, widest, and spinach infested smile, Mr. Very Important sees you coming, waves his hands and shrieks, “Get away from me get away from me, you reek of bivalve, I’m allergic! Do your research."
You snicker with your boss that when crumbs from pound cake fall into and circulate in it, it looks like vomit, only to realize the Chocolate Fondue Fountain Company is an event lead sponsor.
At the end of the evening, you’re elected to be the one to go home with the leftovers, mostly carrot sticks.