To Quiet Party creators Paul Rebhan and Tony Noe, these unconventional parties offer singles a welcome solution to the social headache of trying to sustain any sort of conversation in the midst of overpowering background noise.

Participants pay a minimal fee to enter, then receive envelopes, paper and pencils and are allowed only to "whisper" in areas designated for low-volume conversations. After a few minutes of booze, whispers and giggles, the bits of paper start flying. "Once people start drinking," says Rebhan, "everything goes crazy."
—Magin McKenna, "Writing love notes helps fan the flames of modern romance," The Sunday Herald (Glasgow, Scotland), December 28, 2003

There you are, beer nestled comfortably in your hand, the glass half-empty already, and you and your companions are launching into a healthy debate on, well, whatever.

It's Saturday night and you are enjoying a drink and some lively social interaction, when all of a sudden a voice hisses, "Shhhhhhhh!"

You are sitting in the no-talking zone of a Quiet Party, where words are not uttered and communication must be of the silent variety, through notes that range from funny to flirtatious.

The new social phenomenon began in New York and has spread to major cities from Washington to London to Beijing, fueled by the notion that big noise doesn't necessarily equal big fun. The Quiet Party is the brainchild of two New York City friends: Paul Rebhan, who calls himself a life-artist, which means he treats his life as a work of art, and classic rock singer-songwriter-producer Tony Noe. Their Web site, www.quietparty.com, explains how it works.
—Linda Laban, "Bar-scene trendsetters keeping quiet on this one," The Boston Herald, November 4, 2003

The setting — The no-talking area of the Quiet Party, an occasional gathering of disaffected night owls seeking refuge from the deafening sounds of the typical bar. The event took place last weekend at Scott Bonnet, a restaurant and bar on West 31st Street. The jukebox was unplugged, cellphones were turned off, and patrons were prohibited from uttering a word. Guests sat around the hushed booths, scribbling notes to each other on index cards, like Luddites in an Internet chat room.
—Denny Lee, "Overheard at the Bar: Do You Write Here Often?," The New York Times, December 22, 2002