It is, perhaps, the very last thing you want right now. This old gal (aka me), waxing and waning about the MOST EPIC PARTY I EVER ATTENDED.
The world, as a collective, is grounded like a teenager for the foreseeable future — relegated to mowing the lawn with dad and watching Lifetime movies with mom.
BUT — hear me out.
I think we need these stories more than ever right now, because they are the DNA of who we are as a community that gathers. And we need to remember how good it’s going to be when we collectively pull through this and are able to gather again and party like it’s motherF@#$$ 1999.
So without further adieu, here is the story of the best party I ever attended.
I’ve been to 37 weddings in the past 8 years. This isn’t a fact I’m necessarily proud of. It is just that — a fact. BUT it is a fact that proves I am VERY skilled at attending weddings (and yes, it does take skill to attend a wedding thankyouverymuch).
I'm also a veritable critic of weddings. How did I earn this title? By attending the best wedding on the planet. And it wasn’t even my own wedding (after attending 37 weddings, the last thing you want to do is get married, much to my mother’s devastation).
It was a three-day wedding extravaganza in the small countryside town of Atienza, Spain.
It was there that thirty-ish guests descended upon the 437 residents of Atienza (according to the 2006 census), two of which were the bride’s mother and grandmother, for a long weekend in September, during which we primarily ate, drank, and made friends with the locals — who obviously proceeded to drink with us.
But here’s the kicker to the whole story: I can’t pinpoint an exact moment of that weekend I can hold up and say THAT, THERE — that moment shows it was the best party ever.
There were no flame throwers or ice sculptures.
There were no flower girls in poufy dresses or bouquet throwing.
There was no rice in bags, or eight bridesmaids in matching strapless dresses.
There was nothing there that one would find on Pinterest.
Instead there were genuine humans, deeply in love, who wanted to share the magical quality of their family’s small, sleepy, Spanish countryside town with 30 of their closest friends.
That genuine love naturally spilled over into every aspect of the weekend. Nothing was contrived or done for show. Everything was done out of love.
Okay there was THE BEST MEAT I’D HAD IN MY LIFE and ALL THE SPANISH WINE ONE COULD DRINK.
And a dance party that went until some ungodly hour, but I never wanted it to end.
Oh. And the view of the Spanish countryside in its glory every time you turned your head.
That weekend still sits at the forefront of my thoughts whenever I’m asked about community and connection — and a party is simply an excuse for community and connection, right?
So when we are able to gather again, my hope is we put love at the head of the table. And then who really cares about the rest?
Keep up with Veronica on Instagram @veromcc.
