Party Naked

During the last oil boom, Christmas parties became monster occasions in downtown Oklahoma City. Schlumberger, Halliburton, Dresser Atlas and all the large service companies rented massive ballrooms and sated every guest there with food, drink and entertainment. The oil companies were not far behind, especially those in constant search of investor money.

Single and still young, I once had three women that I was dating show up at the same party. The ballroom was so large and the crowds so thick, I almost made it without discovery. Well, almost!

A year or so later, I made the break from Texas Oil & Gas, forming a partnership with a geophysicist friend of mine. We had an office on the eighth floor of the Park Harvey Center. The venerable office building had a bank of elevators in the center of the floor. A hallway wrapped around this center square with the offices on the outside, facing the windows.

In addition to John and me, there was a small oil company, a land (oil leases) company, two lawyers and a couple of independent geologists. We all knew each other and decided to go together and have a Christmas party on our floor. We chipped in for the booze and food, and one of the lawyers mentioned that he had a few waitresses as clients that owed him money. He was sure that they would act as waitresses free in exchange for working off some of their indebtedness to him.

About this time, I had just begun dating Anne and wanted desperately to impress her. When the night of the party arrived, John and I had a big shock. The lawyer’s servers were actually strippers and they were dressed only in baby dolls. Since we were not paying them, they were not afraid of us firing them, and they quickly began sampling the hooch as fast as they dispensed it.

Word soon spread. Before long, leering geologists packed the hallways along with landmen and engineers. The girls did not mind, soon doffing their tops, and then their bottoms.

Anne showed up with a friend, a matronly secretary. After practically fainting, the older woman hurried back to the elevators, leaving the increasingly rowdy crowd for safer climes. I do not remember a lot after that, having already consumed too much whiskey.

The party continued until all the whiskey was gone, and the girls dressed and departed. Anne was a good sport about the situation, as was Debbie, John’s future wife that also showed up. Anne remained sober, had a clear head and drove me home safely. I awoke to a massive hangover and a ringing phone. The news of the party had spread and those that had missed it were calling to see if the stories were true.

The following year John and I were drilling oil wells and had several employees. Instead of the previous year’s drunken debacle, we hosted a sedate wine and cheese party that lasted only until seven. It did not matter as hundreds of oil industry voyeurs showed up anyway, just in case.
Those were the go go years of the last oil boom. Even amid the blurred memories, many things that occurred read almost like fiction. The events that occurred during that era were true. Even I couldn’t make this stuff up.

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