Two of the boys from the cast celebrated their birthdays last night with a party in the SOB (Staff-Only Bar) after the show. Most of the kids were there – “kids” being the international showbiz term for singers and dancers. Evan was turning 24, and Nolan 27, so they really are kids.

I didn't stay long, feeling, as I do, somewhat out of place at these things. I stood at the bar drinking O'Doul's non-alcoholic beer and chatting with an off-duty bartender I knew from my last contract. He calls me "Dooley" now because of the O'Doul's, a beverage he disapproves of.

People judge you by what you drink, you know. I know I do. For example, the birthday boys drink things like Lemon Bacardi gimlets or vodka and Kahlua. No extra-dry martinis or boilermakers for those boys! Their drinks have to be cute.

The bartender remembers my crew ID from my contract last winter – 28211. This is the number I have to give the bartender to order drinks on my crew account. I should be flattered that I made such an impression on him last time. Of course I wasn't drinking O'Douls back then (I wouldn't have been able to drink enough O'Douls for him to remember my number...).

The bartender must be almost my age. We looked wistfully out over the crowd of 20-somethings.

“Look over there”, he said. “A lovely rose between two thorns.”

A sexy little blond was being chatted up by a couple of guys (not boys, these, probably grunts from the sports deck) each one sitting on an arm of her chair. I got the feeling my friend was thinking of giving the bush a little prune, but I don't know if he did.

I didn't stay long at the party. I'm shy (bet you didn't know that) and I used to use alcohol to overcome that particular impediment. Without the alcohol I remain aloof, apart from the action - a little like Rod Serling standing off to the side in an episode of the Twighlight Zone. I can never think of anything to say to start a conversation. I don't particularly want to talk about why I'm drinking O'Doul's (which is what my friend the bartender wanted to talk about, and chastize me for, as if I'd disappointed him).

But I think I've found a conversation starter I can use in the future - my Crop Circle t-shirt. I wore it this morning and started getting comments almost immediately. I've noticed this before when I've worn it, too.

“They're real, you know,” said a female officer as I sat having a coffee on deck five this morning. I was pretty sure it wasn't her breasts she was talking about. Her comment threw me a little - I wasn't thinking of my t-shirt, so I didn't know what she was talking about.

“They're real? What are real?”

“Crop circles. My uncle in Britain photographs them.”

Now there's something to talk about! Then at lunch the Slovakian pianist, who never says anything, came up to tell me about a film he saw about crop circles made by a Slovakian. So far that shirt is the best conversation starter I've got.

Next time I'll remember to wear it to the party.

I should try out some other t-shirts, too. Roswell, maybe, or other Coast-to-Coast type themes.