Party Crashing

Imagine yourself driving down a scenic country road. Winding every few hundred feet, admiring the green pastures for miles ahead, with wild flowers lining the one lane of asphalt? Then all of a sudden you spot a quaint family farm house to your left. Children are playing in the yard, while the adults are sitting around the crackling fire. They tell stories of their youth in between bites of warm roasted marshmallow.

As the smell of wood smoke left my nose a few miles up the road My father asked,” Do you ever want to just crash a party?"

And so the evening progresses. We arrive at our destination. A little Mexican restaurant in a little town, with a little family...and a lot of Tequila. As the endless margarita glass keeps mysteriously filling itself to the top I realize that I am a little too loud, a little too crazy...a little too late! The sweet waiter stopped me on my way out of the ladies room. "Amiga, you need water?" he said. The stark white face and stumbling must have blown my cover.

In the mean time, my father (who we lovingly refer to as Hollywood) is being treated like Mexican royalty. Drinks are coming left and right followed with prompt service from all wait staff. To top it off...a photograph of my father wearing a red velvet sombrero while giving double peace signs is placed on the entrance wall. We haven't quite figured out how or why people think he is some sort of celebrity, but they do? I think if he would have grown up in L.A. he would totally be on T.V.! Something funny, not any weird game show host or anything.

We retire to the gravel parking lot where my sisters violate a stone donkey statue that is donning plastic sunglasses. We stop for a few family pictures. We must get it from my father, Hollywood, because we all love the paparazzi!

As we are driving home (with sober drivers of course) we pull into that family bonfire we passed a few hours and a few cocktails ago. We step out of car; reunite with our long lost friends. I say seems like it has been "forever" since last time we saw one another. Literally.

The Party became a bit less funny and a bit more uncomfortable (physically and emotionally) when I accidentally tripped over an old water pump that was sticking out of the grass covered ground. It bounced from left and right as every attending eye glared at me. As if violating their privacy wasn’t uncomfortable enough, I was unintentionally vandalizing their yard decor. "Ooops!” I giggled.

We fashionably exited the Soirée soon after that. On the way home, as we traveled down the same winding road I sat in the front seat of my mother's SUV. I however was in some serious need of fresh air and a window seat. Suddenly out of the back of the SUV someone yells "Chinese Fire Drill!" The brakes slam, doors open and my entire family is running around the car while passers by look at us in utter confusion.

It was at this point in the evening that I realized how fun my family is! I am so thankful for the freedom to laugh out loud.

The moral of this little ditty? Be yourself. Be courageous. Have fun. Realize you are never too old, too busy, or too cool to be a Great Goofball.

A grave stone reads two dates; but what really matters are the stories and laughs represented by the little dash in between them.