We live in a society that defines us more by what we do for a living rather than what we do with our lives. A 9-5 desk job is valued with higher regard than the ability to tell stories glorifying humans innately good nature, stories of love and general silliness. I’ve never understood this. I mean, A 9-5 desk job lasts 8 hours a day. A beautiful story lasts the life time of the teller. And the lives we touch telling our stories transcends any linear life into a domino of inspiring chaos. Because a good story is always retold. Always.
I believe our lives are measured by the people we meet and the stories we tell. Some of the best advice I ever got was from an old man who overheard me complaining of a social obligation. He looked at me and said, “life is too short to go to parties with people you can’t stand.” It blew my mind. Blow off a social obligation? It felt like anarchy. It was liberating! It was awe inspiring! I was drunk on power! I had the ability to decide how I spent my evening: at a party with people I couldn’t stand or anything else. I went with anything else and I met one of my best friends that night. Beautiful, right?
The past couple of weeks were especially tiring. I was stressed about work. I was frustrated about being sick. Again. Dating had become synonymous with disappointment. I was upset a friend passed away. My feelings were hurt by my family. My paycheck was several hundred dollars less than I was expecting. Then the Boston Bombings happened. The selfish disgusting incomprehensible behavior was annihilating my faith in humanity. Whenever I’ve been in dire trouble it has been by the grace and kindness of strangers that helped me. I’ve never been one to argue humans are innately evil, though I found myself questioning that. It made me feel nauseous. I felt myself becoming cynical. It was awful.
The Old Man was right; when life gives you lemons you are the one who decides what do with them. I decided to go to Paris.
A childhood friend I hadn’t seen in years was backpacking through. And I just really needed a Nutella crêpe. Good enough of a reason for me!
My friend and I caught up over Indian food after walking around the Bastille. We met this amazing Aussie girl who sold everything she owned to travel for 18 months. We got to know her touring the Latin Quarter. We shared laughs and over-priced cafe au laits where Hemingway used to write. Though our permanent bond, our shared story, was still being written.
A casual night out for drinks turned into an epic story of humility, kindness, humor and adventure. We found ourselves at an exclusive nightclub having a private party. We stood on the street staring inside believing in our hearts the people inside were having the most fun in the world. There was pink and white lights scattered throughout the darkness. My favorite Daft Punk song, Around The World, blasted into the streets. We wanted in. As we stood staring into what we imagined to be the worlds’ greatest party something magical happened, the bouncer turned his back for just one little second. I know a golden opportunity when I see one! Like the wind we ran inside and down the stairs to a small room that really was having the worlds’ greatest party. Alex recognized some of our music idols who were just as polite and charming as they are talented. This was a night usually reserved for movies based off overly sentimental books. And there we were. Old friends, new friends, and modern music legends drinking and dancing in Paris.
There is more to the story, but I’m saving it for my overly sentimental book 
I’m no fool. I know not everyone has unlimited access to jets for an impromptu trip abroad. We all have friends we say we will visit yet never do. There are the towns we drive through that peak our curiosity but we never quench it. What I’m saying is that when faced with a decision of going to a party full of people you can’t stand or going to Paris- go to Paris. Audrey was right, “Paris is Always a good idea.”
Bis bis!
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