Austin put on numerous End of the World parties last week. Surely none matched the scale or creativity of the epic event staged by game developer and cosmonaut Richard Garriott de Cayeux and his wife, new mother Laetitia.
All photos copyright Bert McLendon
For many years, Garriott hosted elaborate haunted houses at a sequence of homes known as Britannia Manor. In a wooded area alongside Lake Austin, he has also put together spectacular theme parties. For a black-tie Titanic voyage, for instance, he actually sank the ship.
With this in mind, we took his personal invitation to the End of the World seriously. Something big was going to happen, whether we lived through it or not. We were instructed to come costumed as explorers of some kind, to dress warmly and comfortably and to be prepared for hours of active, outdoor participation.
My companion for the evening and I noodled over possible costumes. Conquistador and friar? Dora the Explorer and Boots the Monkey? Lucy in Disguise had in stock a ready monkey suit for my friend, but nothing would ever convince fellow guests that I was a tiny, energetic Latina with a backpack a pageboy haircut. A helpful clerk said he could provide a very yellow outfit, so we went as Curious George and the Man in the Yellow Hat.
As we boarded the downtown shuttle to the party that night, it became immediately apparent that most other guests went in the direction of Victorian ladies and gentlemen or characters from “Indiana Jones.” One large group came as the cast of “The Matrix.”
They looked good. I looked, well, silly.
I embraced my lot. We disembarked outside the hosts’ rough-hewn Elizabethan theater for 90 minutes or so of gawking and casual socializing. Alamo Drafthouse owners Tim and Karrie League were so well disguised, they were forced to identify themselves. Four Seasons Hotel food and beverage director Danielle Smith, who kept by us most of the evening, stayed classy in a warm, dark shawl and pith helmet purchased while kayaking in Vietnam.
The rest of the evening — some four hours — was given over to participatory activities. We processed in groups to five location in the woods. For us, the first station was a ring of fire enlivened with fire dancers, walking on coals and a drum circle around a huge campfire. It was very, very cold by the lake in the high hills, so the heat was welcome.
Our next stop was a tent for “heathens.” We remained toasty as we lounged on fake furs while various performers put on shows. We also were encouraged to partake in trust exercises. By this time, guests had figured out there was no easy way out of participation.
The third station seemed scientific in a old-timey manner with old instruments strewn about. Green drinks were served in test tubes. Outside, we joined party games and watched mock sumo contests, which struck me as inexplicably funny.
Next we were ushered into a revival tent, which turned out to be a jolly sing-along to pop rock tunes.
To top everything off, all teams headed to a Mayan temple lit like a Las Vegas casino surrounded by costumed performers. Our hosts looked like the feathered royalty pictured in the art at El Azteca in East Austin. They ascended the temple steps as flames rose and various indecipherable rituals were enacted. (Costume parties seem immune the most stringent social, cultural or political sensitivities.)
All this revelry benefited the X Prize Foundation, which promotes novel scientific competitions, and was sponsored by Dell, High End Systems, Portalarium and other vendors.
It certainly was epic. Scores and scores of volunteers provided the entertainment. About 150 guests — some had flown in from distant spots — lapped it up. Some overdid. But we’ll leave that alone.
It’s unlikely that I would ever join such a participatory party adventure again, but hey, it was the End of the World after all.