Party guests are like the Catch of the Day; if they hang around too long, they stink. Perhaps that’s why I’ve always been a fan of the “Irish Goodbye,” the act of leaving a social situation without any notice. It’s the real world’s Control-Alt-Delete button combo, a mercifully quick ending that skips formality in the interest of practicality.
I come from a very large Irish family where leaving family functions involves a series of farewell gestures that can take longer than the Irish War of Independence. Someone inevitably saves that particularly juicy story for the moment our wives are shaking the car keys at us and glaring. We have to plan our departures like a presidential motorcade, taking note of all exits and alternate routes.