Fifteen people attended Operation Icicle which is few compared to most gatherings I have.  There were two waves of departure which left a core of six from 1am onward.  We talked for a few hours and before one friend left we chatted:

Me: Did you enjoy yourself?

Him: I suppose.  It wasn’t your best gathering.

Me: Noted.

Him: Better luck next time.

The wood was a little damp, the night rather cold, and the ground a little wet.  These added up to less than the evening I wanted.  While cleaning up, one of the guests fell almost directly on my surgical site and I declared a moratorium on fun for the evening.  I retired for the night smelling of smoke and disappointment.

Maybe Operation Icicle had run its course.  My first one was in 1999 and I held them regularly throughout high school.  I stopped in college but returned to having them a year after.  Of those attending this evening, Rachel had been attending the longest and was the only one from my high school group to still be in my circle of friends.  For about 1/3 of the people present this was their first one.  Maybe this history and ritual was lost to them.  I’ll be moving downtown within the next half year.  I probably won’t have outdoor winter parties then.