Conair. Back when Simon Spies was still alive and ran the place. Even though I was but a pimple faced youngster (around 16-17 I suppose) there was still plenty of action, if you catch my drift And no under-age rule for drinking either.
Best one wasn't a x-mas party though, that was when Simon married that bimbo called... ehh ... forgot her name actually. Anyway, that's besides the point. Point is that the hangar was converted to a tropical paradise with food, and drinks, from all over the world. The finest french wines, the best scotch, the best cognac and so on and so forth. A phalanx of the best chefs from the finest restaurants in Copenhagen were manning the grills and served the most wonderful and varied dishes you could imagine. They even had a little 'park' with plenty of dead angles where one could, hmm, retreat with whomever one had met at the party. If one then, during a walk in the park, found that he or she was worth investigating a bit further, there was also a 720 outside the hangar which had been 'modified' with 'cabins' for the obvious purposes. No expenses spared. 1200 people invited, the press were kicked out before the dinner was served and nobody left early. Simon sure knew how to throw a party!
We all got an extra annual week in the sun, all expenses except bar bill paid. That's an extra weeks vacation and a charter trip to the sun. Not bad, not bad at all.