DJ Delilah Destroys the Pool Party
Installment #3 of my new book, “Who Shaved My Cat? The Strange Tales of a Southern HOA”.
About 8 million people listen to DJ Delilah on a nightly basis as they nod off to sleep to her smooth rock playlist. Coincidentally, DJ Delilah once DJ’d our HOA’s Adult Pool Party as well.
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The HOA Adult Pool Party… It sounds kinky, risqué, kinda swinger-y. It’s been a very popular event in our neighborhood for years. We close the pool early, set up some food and booze, and the adults have free reign of the water from 7pm until ???
It’s not as wild as its name might lend - about the wildest thing I’ve seen is some bra & panty diving and then someone offered me a joint one year - but you didn’t hear that from me… Overall it’s a really good time. In the past we’ve had a steel drum band, a live band, and a few different DJs. This particular year the plan was to have a “dance-party theme”, and we had a DJ scheduled - a neighborhood resident I’ll refer to as Larry*.
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I helped Larry load in the afternoon of the party. Larry had a lot of speakers in his rig - a lot of speakers. They all looked like the vintage home stereo speakers you had in high school. Larry also had a lot of extension cords too - like, miles of extension cords; however, Larry knew where everything needed to be plugged in - the black wires, the red wires, the extension cords, and the whatever-else was going on in that rig. He even had a wiring diagram!
I was concerned about one thing… Larry was on a pool deck - near a pool. He was near water. There was a certain eventuality of water from the pool being introduced to his miles of cabling on the deck. There was also a thunderstorm flashing lightning bolts off in the distance. Larry had a lot of cabling looped in out and out of the wrought iron fence that surrounded the pool. What if… Nah… won’t happen…
By 7:00 the food buffet was ready to go, the margarita machines were whirring, and it was party time! By 7:30 we had a good crowd building. Some folks had pre-gamed and were feeling pretty good. Others were on frozen margarita #2 having started #1 at 7:25. The crowd was ready for some music and some dancing.
Larry had put on a cool fedora and some glow in the dark necklaces. He looked intent on starting us strong. I had confidence he would be taking us on a mystical musical journey - one that promised to transport us to a world where tequila, Prozac, and high-blood pressure medications melded into a peaceful suburban bliss.
I handed him a margarita to make sure he was on an even playing field with our attendees. “Let’s get it on, Larry!” I shouted. It was time to show these folks what kind of party the HOA can throw!
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Larry launched his set with “Subdivisions” by Rush. Hmmm, ok… that’s an odd choice. A 1982 flop single from a prog-rock band was not what I was expecting out of the gate. As I surveyed the reaction on the dance floor Larry was cuing up his next song. I could see by the look in his eyes he was trying to get a read on the party vibe, trying to get a handle on our collective blood alcohol level.
As Geddy Lee’s miserable honk of a voice faded away, Larry hit us hard! Gordon Lightfoot’s “Sundown” took over the speakers. Hmmm… this is not what I was expecting either. Larry, can I have some of what YOU are smoking? Cuz you are on another level of the universe my man!
Larry followed with another barn-burner - Dylan’s “Lay Lady Lay”. What in the truckload full of whisky tango foxtrot is this music collection Larry? Is this your first pool party? He then absolutely slayed the dance floor with “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. Sweet mercy, Larry. You’re killing me here! It’s about to get ugly Larry! We’re losing the crowd!!!
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We had a revolt on our hands. Larry was getting inundated with requests for music produced in the 21st century. Dance music! You know, for the dance floor. He had none. He was immediately dubbed “DJ Delilah” with his smooth, soft rock sounds…
His wife hurried over with her iPod to try to save him. However, when we whiplashed from “Edmund Fitzgerald” to “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen it proved to be too much for the tequila-infused crowd of middle-aged white people. There was revolt.
We had mass chaos on our hands when a cannonball off the diving board ended DJ Delilah’s evening. A wave of water washed over Larry’s rig like a cleansing baptismal wave. It was as if the water gods themselves wanted to reboot the party. First the speakers on the left side shorted out, followed soon by the right. Larry hurriedly picked up his cables from a flooded pool deck and headed for the minivan. “Ladies and gentleman, DJ Delilah has left the building…”
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At this point the party got weird. As the mostly sober crowd went home, the mostly inebriated crowd was challenged to finish the frozen margaritas in the two machines. We paid $115 a piece for them from a local joint called That’s Agave and we wanted to get our money’s worth. Folks were chugging that shit straight out of the spigots.
A guy who had just moved into the neighborhood began launching some pretty nice stunt dives off the diving board. In an effort to liven up the party I whispered to him that the single middle-aged single sisters who live together on my street thought he was really cute. My plan worked to encourage a riskier and riskier exhibition as he ramped up his effort to impress his charmed admirers. Chants of “New guy! New guy!” replaced DJ Delilah’s music as New Guy tried ever riskier back-dives, gainers, and double-flips to the delight of the crowd.
Of course I was making the whole “girl crush” thing up so I felt bad as the fun ended when he injured his shoulder. He had to be attended to by the elementary school nurse who was still at the party promising IVs in the morning for anyone in need.
Looking to keep the action rolling, I stole the HOA golf cart from the equipment barn, grabbed some fireworks from my garage, and with the help of some unnamed accomplices launched a cacophonous barrage near midnight that was not very popular amongst the nearby residents.
Around 2 am we ended the party by stumbling home, still chanting “New Guy, New Guy”, and humming the music of Rush, Dylan, and Lightfoot. What a night!
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There is no real moral to this story. No real business lesson or HOA community learn. One resident did come to an HOA meeting and challenged us for spending money on booze. I pointed out that the $230 we paid to That’s Agave for the margarita machines was a whopping .575% of our total annual budget. I also pointed out that DJ Delilah never sent us a bill, even though we may have ruined his rig.
The HOA’s Adult Pool Party enjoyed a wicked reputation that us diehards tried to uphold for a few more years, but times change. Lately the party has been replaced by a cornhole tournament or a “selfie party”. The drink of choice is now White Claws instead of high-powered booze, and even the men drink them. I guess the new kids wanna be in bed by 9 from what I can see, but it didn’t use to be that way.
Hell, at 53 I’ll take New Guy, DJ Delilah, and felony golf cart theft any day of the week. You want midnight fireworks? Let’s rock and roll!!!
This is a true story.
*names have been changed to protect the innocent and to honor the guilty