Some friends and I were invited to a reception last Friday in honor of the Irish and Dutch cricket players who had competed against each other during the World Cricket Tournament. I decided I needed a crash course in Cricket, which I failed miserably. We showed up in our nice cocktail dresses and entered the biggest crush and the most press I've seen in Kolkata.
We wandered to the bar, which was surrounded by very cute, very tall cricket players. I struck up a conversation with a couple of them, mainly them making fun of my drinking canned Guinness, and I introduced myself to one-- apparently the captain of the Irish cricket team. Found that out when he had to go up to make a speech. I also found out that bowlers had to be really tall (usually) while batters could really be any height. Go learning new things. . . awkwardly. :)
As the evening progressed, our group decided it would be a good idea to invite the cricketers out to one of the clubs we knew. Arriving en masse, we danced, and drank, and I realized that three inch heels were not meant to be worn for seven hours. There were three cricketers who arrived with us, and they were pretty good dancers. At the end of the evening, when we tried to collect everyone to go home, the personal security person of the cricketers started asking us, rather loudly, where the third cricketer was who had arrived with us. We weren't aware that we were supposed to be tracking them.
We looked everywhere, and we kind of expect to see some kind of news story, because, well, we apparently lost a cricketer that night. Whoops.
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