HAUSPARTY

06 Apr, 2026

Attending my first house party in years.

Content warning: Alcohol.

The last time I attended a house party with lots of drinks, people, and a DJ was pre-pandemic with my former Lucerne crew. They were a few years younger than me and probably on the cusp between Gen Z and Y. I mention this because the party I went to last night was definitely a Gen Z party. (Well, there were people of all ages there, but the primary group was Gen Z.)

How I ended up there

After the last Queer Chor performance in Winterthur, I took the train home with H and her friend, M. Prior to that, I had only spoken to H one other time, during our first concert.

Since we both arrived from Lucerne, we stopped by a café before rehearsal and she bought me a cup of coffee. She's super friendly and speaks in a mature, soothing voice. (She sings tenor.) She's originally from Germany, so we talked about experiences as foreigners in Switzerland.

I got to know her a lot more on the train ride back to Lucerne. I was excited to make a potential friend in the city, only to learn that she's moving back to Germany in a few weeks! Last week, I texted her and asked if we could meet up before she leaves since I still owe her coffee. That's when she told me that she was having a birthday/goodbye party at her place.

"Bring whoever you'd like, and some drinks!" she wrote. "The party will start after 8 PM and our friend will DJ later in the evening."

So this was a proper house party—with strangers.

Dare I go?

I was very intrigued by the DJ part, because that meant there will be dancing! And that's one of my favorite activities. I was too afraid to go alone, so I asked Daniel if he'd come with me and he agreed.

Act I: Socializing with strangers

"Are you sure this is correct?" Daniel asked. The map was directing us to the top of hill, where two grand buildings stood. "Does she live in a mansion?"

I looked closer at my phone. The destination pointed at a smaller building on the right of the two larger ones. "Trust me," I said, and sprinted up the stairs.

We arrived at what seemed to be a small housing complex. "Look, the door is open," said Daniel. We walked towards the gate. "Number ██," I remarked. "This is it."

• 
  This print is hanging by the doorway, which definitely set the tone of the place.

We pushed open the door to reveal a foyer littered with shoes on the floor and coats stacked on top of each other.* We were definitely in the right building.

* In Switzerland, people remove their shoes before they enter the home. I also observed this in Germany. I always thought that white people kept their shoes on at home (even on the bed!), but it seems to be a US thing only.

• 
  I took this picture when we left the party. There were even more shoes when we arrived.

Music and chatter could be heard from upstairs. As we made our way up, a familiar face was walking down. It was M.

"Hey, I know you!" I exclaimed. M and I exchanged hugs and I introduced him to Daniel. The top of the stairs opened into a kitchen area. There were people gathered around the makeshift bar and also around the small dining table. The room was quite dark, but I saw someone wave eagerly at me and came running forward. It was H.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she said, "Everyone is welcome." We hugged, made our introductions, and Daniel gestured to the two bottles of Moscato that we'd bought earlier that day. H immediately started to open the bottle but failed, and eventually ran to greet more guests.

One guest noticed what we were doing and helped us. "Wow, your German is so good!" I said, when I learned he wasn't German. "Your accent is perfect. You must have learned somewhere before?"

I wasn't always "good" at small talk and while most neurodivergents despise it, I don't.

When you don't know someone at all, you can't just jump into a shared common interest. You need to find common ground first.

I see small talk as the warmup, to decide whether I want to even continue getting to know them. Sure enough, the conversation with this person wasn't very fun. So now, I needed to search for an exit, but I didn't want to end it abruptly and I wanted to buy myself more time to think.

When in doubt, ask the person a question about themselves, because people love talking about themselves and that's how you keep the conversation going. Luckily, someone else came to interrupt us and we naturally parted ways.

It's easier to talk to single people rather than infiltrate a group (scary), and I usually ask a question because the person will respond to you (and based on the answer, you can already tell if they're friendly or not). After that, I just hope I roll high on charisma. I was able to strike up conversations with two other people. Daniel usually just hovers around until I tag him into the conversation.

I like getting to know people, because you always learn some new information. For example, I learned that some restaurants do murder mystery dinner nights with hired actors!

Sometimes, I pretend I'm a detective, trying to gather as much information from the room as I can. Or I pretend I'm a scientist observing humans. For me, treating socializing like an experiment takes the scariness out of it.

I'm glad Daniel was there with me, otherwise I would've pressured myself to drink way more than I should for that liquid courage. And after talking to those two people, I was done actively socializing for the evening, so Daniel and I retreated towards each other.

Act II: Wild garlic butter

We spent the first half of the evening hovering around the snacks at the bar. There were some chips, olives, berries, hummus, feta, and what I thought was garlic butter, except there were bits of green in it. It smelled delicious. Next to it was sliced bread. "Try that for me and tell me if it's garlic," I instructed Daniel.

He prepared himself a slice. "The butter is super hard," he commented. He took a bite. "It's not garlic. It's Bärlauch." Bärlauch is the German word for "wild garlic," also known as "ramsons" in English.

It is a wild relative of onion and garlic, all belonging to the same genus, Allium. (Source)

I was delighted. Garlic is one of my IBS trigger foods, but not wild garlic. I prepared myself a slice. It was awkward, because the hardened butter kept falling off of the knife. Eventually I managed and took a bite.

An explosion of flavor. So good.

It's like eating garlic bread but without the fear of running into intestinal troubles. Raw garlic can be spicy and pungent, but not Bärlauch! I made myself another slice and stopped, because I felt it would be uncouth to eat too much bread.

Later, I noticed there was Knäckebrot (crispbread) at the small round table, so I tried that with the Bärlauch butter. Unfortunately, it wasn't as tasty, because the strong flavor of rye overpowered the wild garlic. However, I vowed to myself that I would make my own Bärlauch butter later at home and eat it with Bärlauch pasta!

FUN ETYMOLOGY FACT: The word Bärlauch literally translates to "bear leek" in German. It's latin name, allium ursinum, also translates to "bear." It is said that brown bears love to eat the bulbs of this plant. (Source)

Act III: Techno on the dancefloor

After spending some time sitting at the bar, I suggested to Daniel that we should move into the living room. "Why?" he asked. "I feel trapped," I replied. It was starting to get crowded in the kitchen area.

But before we moved, I poured myself a glass of wine. Daniel and I had polished off one bottle of Moscato (I hadn't seen anyone else drink it), and someone had opened a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

We squeezed our way through the small crowd and into the living room. The dancefloor was still empty, and a few people sat near the couch. There were two vacant chairs. "Perfect," I said.

We were sitting in front of the bookshelf. Other than wall art and seating areas, the living room just contained books. The literature and art was mostly of the feminist kind. Hanging on the wall next to us was an illustrated print of two people. One person was standing holding a leash while the other was seated on the ground, wearing a dog mask and collar.

"That's us," I joked to Daniel. "I'm the one standing, of course." Daniel made his signature sound of disappointment.

"It's nearing 10," Daniel said. "When do you want to leave?"

"I'm not leaving until I've danced," I replied.

H was hunched over the DJ table, seemingly choosing songs from a playlist. The DJ wasn't here yet, but clearly she wanted to get the dance party started. She put on a song (I forgot what). It was a bop though, and I started dancing in my seat, singing along. H and her friends were already dancing. She looked at me and motioned me to join them‡. "I saw you singing!" she said.

‡ At a dance party, I would've joined the dancefloor on my own. But I was feeling shy since the only people dancing were group that knew each other. So this time, I had to be welcomed in like a vampire.

We danced to some pop hits, including "Pink Pony Club" by Chapelle Roan. Then a German song came on and I took it as my cue to take a break. I had already danced through three songs and was feeling tired, so I wanted to conserve my energy.

When I sat down, Daniel was on his phone with Shazam open. "This song is cool!" he exclaimed. It was called, "Ich kündige," by Grossstadtgeflüster, which translates to, "I quit."

"This is a song for us!" he continued. "Well, I guess we didn't quit our jobs. We lost them."

Suddenly, we heard cheering. "The DJ is here!" someone shouted. It took the DJ a while to set up, so I went for another drink. Before the dance party started, we sang happy birthday to H and someone handed her a present.

The set was a mix of techno, with funky loud blends between songs and satisfying drops. There was even some Latin thrown in there.

I can dance to anything, as long as I enjoy the music and the vibes.

I danced alone towards the back so I had ample space. Usually, I like to dance right in front of the DJ booth, but that space was taken up by H and her friends, and since this was a house party and not some random club, I didn't feel like I needed to get any closer. Also, everyone was so tall, so I didn't feel like worming my way through.

The best part was dancing in socks. Last month I had danced in my comfy boots, but after an hour my toes felt like they were gonna fall off. Without shoes, my feet were free! Not only did I dance, I even jumped up and down! Several times! I was so proud of myself, because I thought my days of jumping were over.

I took some breaks, had two more glasses of wine, and later switched to water. I was also proud that I was able to make these instinctively good decisions. By 1:00, I could feel myself start to sober up. I sat on the couch with Daniel for a bit. "I'm reading your blog post!" he said.

He had been curled up on the couch the entire time. I had asked him if he wanted to dance (he loves dancing and is a very good dancer!), but he said he was too shy and this music wasn't his style.

"I'm going to dance to a few more songs and then we can leave," I said.

People had scattered off so there was more room on the dance floor. I moved towards the DJ and danced.

I love dancing "with" other people who are also dancing alone. Sometimes we make eye contact and just exchange a smile before returning to our own worlds.

People came back onto the dance floor with wine bottles in hand, drinking straight from them. It felt like the third phase of a party¶, where people are now getting hammered. If I was younger or closer to the host, I might've done the same. But I was neither, so I took it as our cue to leave.

¶ Phase 1: Everyone's still sober, warming up and chatting. Phase 2: Tipsy, people get more loud and exuberant. Phase 3: Drunk/wasted. (These are my interpretations, ofc.)

• 
  I didn't take any photos during the party, so I quickly snapped some before we left.

Act IV: Walking home by moonlight

I've walked home from this neighborhood before. It's on a hill, so going up it's easier to take the bus, but if the weather is pleasant, it's a nice downhill walk back home. Even though it was colder, I had my fleece jacket and beanie, and felt like a brisk night walk would further sober me up. Door-to-door it would take about 25 minutes.

I told Daniel about my Bärlauch butter pasta plan. "Why don't you make a pesto instead?" he suggested. "My sister used to make it."

"You're a genius!" I exclaimed.

The moon was glowing brightly that night. "Wow, that looks spooky," I remarked, as we passed by the Museggmauer.

• 
  It's giving Dracula.

Eventually, we made it out of the winding neighborhood streets and into the city.

• 
  Lucerne at night.

Daniel commented that lately there's been some rowdy teens hootin' and hollerin' around our neighborhood. We passed some loud teenagers but they continued past us.

"It's a nice walk, isn't it?" I asked Daniel. "Thanks again for coming with me."

I'm thinking about incorporating more at-home dancing in my life. Perhaps I'll turn the office into our personal dance club. It's the only room with curtains (and they're blackout curtains), so we can truly dance like nobody's watching. Perhaps Daniel will join me then.

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#2026 #blog #lucerne