I turn 30 tomorrow.
Somehow I lived in denial that the day would never come. That somehow I would stay perpetually in my 20s or that maybe by the time I turned 30 we would stop associating people with how old they are.
I don't feel like I am turning 30 tomorrow. Honestly, by this time in my life I thought things would be completely different. Not a good or a bad different, just different.
I am proud of where my life is right now, the challenges I have faced, the people that I have met and can call my friends, the journeys that I have taken, the adventures I have been on, and everything in between.
Rather than pretend I am not turning 30, my sister in law and I decided to have a party. (She turned 30 about two weeks ago).
We invited all of our friends - near and far - and had a big throw down at my parents house. All of my favorite people were there and it was almost too overwhelming for me to even process.
Let's start with a few weeks ago when my best friend in New York texted me and told me she had booked a plane ticket for the weekend of the party. I did a jig in my cube and squealed like a child at the sight of Santa Claus. To say I was excited was the understatement of the century.
The week of the party my best friend in Atlanta told me that she was driving in Saturday of the party.
My people. My people.
After patiently waiting for the weekend of the party: read: obnoxiously excited and irritable for about 3 weeks, the Friday finally came and it was time to pick up Kristen at the airport and show her around my city.
I parked at the airport and got a text from my best friend in Boston showing me a picture of the baseball stadium and then asking me if I knew that you could turn on location services for text messages. I responded distractedly with a yea, that's weird. I walked up to the airport to this girl staring at me, and in my brain I went that's not Kristen. I've got to find Kristen. I walk through the sliding doors and and wham MC walks in and surprises the hell out of me. She conspired with my brother to fly in from Boston and surprise me. I was so awkward I didn't know what to do but scream and hug her. Then we needed to find Kristen.
After some frantic texting we finally locate my Kristen and I screamed and hugged and introduced. We hop in the Jetta, after passing a parade of people who were there to pick up people. An actual parade. They had instruments, signs, and were singing. I apologized for not being that cool, and Kristen asked if I was driving a truck. I told her I was about to disappoint her again and took them to my sad little almost recalled diesel Jetta.
We cruised to the tunes of Marc Cohn's "Walking in Memphis" and bombed our way down the interstate to E&H. Earnestine and Hazels. I love E&H. They have soul burgers, cold beer, ghosts, and live music. What more could you ask for. It was the perfect dive bar to take my friends and show them Memphis. After many hours of talking, a few cold beers, lots of laughs, and a few close calls falling off a bar-stool (me) we moseyed our way back to my house to get some shut eye so we could explore Memphis.