Why office Christmas parties are bad news

Finding an inebriated man in her doorway has Polly recalling her own Christmas party shame. Photo / Getty

I've spent a fair bit of my down time this week wondering what happened to 'blue suit man'.

It's Christmas party season and, a little like in hunting season, animals will go down. One just doesn't expect to find one in one's apartment doorway.

I think we may have all done it at some stage and if not, there is time.

"It" being, fallen over or fallen asleep inebriated in an inappropriate locale. Last week I left my apartment at 4am only to be greeted right in my doorway, not even the hallway, but my doorway, by a tall good-looking man sprawled out in a rather delicious blue suit.

So delicious was the suit that, as I stepped over him, I was briefly inclined to do the cheeky reach-down, turn back his suit collar and check for the tailor. I didn't.

I was afraid he'd wake up and punch me in the "lady foof" as I straddled him awkwardly, trying not to wake him. Blue suit guy did stir when I squealed slightly on first sight; he looked about dazed but I'm not sure what happened then as I scooted off towards the lift.

I felt his shame. I felt a nostalgic wince. I assume his wife let him in to the apartment next door, and can only imagine he ended up in his fairly ridiculous predicament by somehow falling asleep fumbling for his keys. That's drunk.

I have been blue suit guy. Or rather, I was halter-neck maxi dress lady. I thought about this recently too, as my grand humiliation happened at Christmas party time.

It was 2005 and an ex-rugby player mate had one of his infamous Christmas parties. I somehow ended up playing drinking games with a whole bunch of large, piss-fit rugby players. And I clearly wasn't winning.

The next memory is trying to climb back into the posh Ponsonby property by scaling an 2.5m security fence. Back in to black out.

My next memory is of being woken up by the big guy. I was on the back deck under a barbecue cover.

I wonder about blue suit guy. I wonder if he got in trouble and whether he'd been playing drinking games or simply had 10 too many free Champagnes.

I haven't seen him since. I should imagine he's listening for the sound of me leaving my apartment and avoiding any encounters at the elevator.

Here's to all the blue suit guys and girls who find themselves in the wee hours lying outside under barbecue covers. Work Christmas parties are designed for one thing - ridiculous stories.

WHAT'S YOUR WORST CHRISTMAS PARTY STORY? TELL US IN THE COMMENTS BELOW:

- nzherald.co.nz