Anyone who has ever seen Whilt Stillman's movie "Metropolitan" and then attended an event where they are separated from their friends and family for an extended period of time would know that the film is just a little too close to life for any comfort.

The Vignette Corporation was kind enough to sponsor a three day bash called simply and modestly, "Vignette Village" at a massive hotel/resort in the middle of sun bleached Phoenix, Arizona. My employer felt it would be a good thing for me to attend, and to be honest, I thought it was too. After all, my first winter in New York had been tough one for a boy raised in California and three days of drinking in the warmer climate sounded like the ideal situation to be in. New York reaffirmed that belief by snowing the day I was to catch my plane.

Being alone and not knowing anyone, save my boss who had the foresight to bring his wife along, I was forced to find a group of people to latch on to. Such a group was found rather easily on the first night. Jennifer was someone who was actually on the same plane as I was and was rather friendly. Her co-worker Brian was also nice, if sometimes a bit of a pushover. Paul and the other whose name I can not remember for the life of me were from Seattle and though their goals in life included buying big houses and fast cars, seemed to fit will among Jen, Brian, and I who did my best to remain under the blessed influence of alcohol the entire time. The five of us bonded the first night and quickly became the pack to be a part of. It could be said that we were even a clique.

We all sat at the pool side table together to the exclusion of others. In the "developer lounge" we monopolized the inflatable furniture and wouldn't let others into our circle. We watched out for each other and saved each other's seats, but it was all a facade. The fact was, none of us cared a wit for the rest.

We were all disposable to one another and hung together out of fear of being alone among all the rest. We all traded business cards and promised to keep in contact, but it's not hard to believe that none of us will ever see each other again.

- Colin Ferm
MAIL this to a friend. They'll thank you for it later.