Remember that time I didn’t throw up on my shoes?
That was a good time. But you have to be careful about good times, because they can be tricky. They lure you into this joyous haze—maybe or maybe not induced by refraining from public vomiting—and then you make wild decisions like getting suckered into volunteering to help plan and run those good times the next time they come around.
Which is all my way of saying I was on the planning committee for the 2016 Spring Fling, which went down a couple weekends ago. How did that happen? See joyous non-vomiting haze above, and also I guess when people look at you and think, “She didn’t throw up on her shoes,” they see that as a qualification of someone who can help plan big events, and signals to others that, I dunno…they’re drunk? I’m drunk? We’re all drunk? Someone must have been drunk. It’s the only explanation.
Anyhoo, there I was, eighteen months before the next conference, on the planning committee.
And then, quite not-so-suddenly, the eighteen months were up and the conference was actually happening. And then quite suddenly indeed, it was over.
If you’ve ever planned a conference, you understand what I’m saying. If you haven’t, all I can say is there’s all of this build up, this stretch of seemingly endless lead time, and then there’s not and even with all the planning you’ve done it’s happening, you’re in the thick of it, trial by fire, because God knows you’ve never planned a conference before, and there’s nothing left to do except be all, “HEY, THIS FIRE LOOKS NICE AND TOASTY. LET’S SING STEVE MILLER BAND SONGS AND DANCE AROUND IN IT.”
It’s just…it’s quite befuddling to have this huge event in your life for so long, taking over every minute of your free time, especially in the last few months before it actually happens, and then it’s…done.* You don’t have to think about it anymore. I mean, you do, a little bit, but really only because you’re not sure what else to think about. It’s a bit flail-inducing, all those spare minutes back in your own possession, and you don’t quite know what to do with them.**
If you’re lucky, like me, you’ll have three amazing women also on the conference planning committee who will share in your befuddlement. (And also share in all the wine you drank in the months leading up to the conference.) Thank goodness, because befuddlement is more fun when you’re among friends. So is conference planning, in case you were wondering.
I won’t get into the details about the conference, the workshops, the people, the swag, the speeches, the panels, the energy—I’m not sure I could do it justice, quite frankly, except to say that it was amazing. All of it and everyone. I am amazing! You are amazing! Your hair is amazing! Your mom is amazing! Our headliners and VIPs were amazing! So much so that I now have a girl-crush on every single one of them. I didn’t know it was possible to have girl crushes on so many women at once, but here I am, starry-eyed and moony over these 14 women.
And don’t even get me started on the actual conference attendees—I lurrrv them. I lurved meeting them and chatting with them, and celebrating their successes (and lo! Were there many successes throughout the weekend!) And I’m not just saying that because some of them politely laughed at my jokes during the opening kick-off. I could not have asked for a more enthusiastic, engaged, and appreciative bunch.
But now? Now, like I said, it’s over.
And now I need a nap.
And maybe some potato chips.
Here’s to Spring Fling 2016, my friends. And to the 2018 Spring Fling planning committee, God speed. Here, let me pass you some wine.
A pillow will be waiting for you at the end. It will be the best nap of your life.
*Kind of like a wedding. Which is also something I was planning during this same time period. Because why not? Why not join a conference planning committee while working full time, and then decide with your main squeeze, hey, NOW is a GREAT time for us to get hitched. (The wedding was actually easier to plan.) And then you know what else you should do? Get pregnant. And also have your first trimester, when you feel like you’re hungover all the g-d time without the fun and delicious red wine to get you to that hangover, happen during the intense six months leading up to the conference. Listen to McPolish, people. I give great advice.
**Eventually you figure out what to do with them. And it involves writing ridiculous blogs and eating pizza, sometimes simultaneously.